For the Republic
by vernajast
Summary: FRev x Carth, FExile. The Mandalorian armies were drawing ever closer, and the youngest generation of Jedi could feel the galaxy dying all around them. It was their time and their future to shape. Pre-Mandalorian Wars through KotOR I. (Sequel planned: For the Order)
1. Part 1

_**A/N: **_Let me assure you, the writing in this story **improves as it goes along**. I started FtR as a practice story to remember _how_ to write fiction. Parts 1-6 were written together in one weekend. When finished, the rest of the story will have taken over 10 months...make that 5 years (?) to complete. I'm told that each chapter is better than the last. So please, bear with me through the first, tentative chapters of For the Republic. Eventually, I plan to overhaul the first half, but not quite yet. This story is simultaneously posted at KotORfanmedia and deviantART, too. Thanks for reading. vj

**Additional A/N after completion: **I do intend to write a sequel, but I'm not sure when it will be available. Please follow this story if you'd like me to send you a PM when the sequel is posted! (If you follow me as an author, you'll get notifs for my Naruto stories, so unless you're in that fandom, following the story would be better. I'll also try to get around to cleaning up the early chapters here, too. Thanks so much for sticking by me all this time and for reading. Thank you, thank you!

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**For the Republic: Part 1  
by vernajast**

**Pre-Mandalorian War; Dantooine Jedi Academy**

A whirling sensor ball dove around four young Jedi knights in the center of the duel ring. Each was wielding a low power lightsaber to ensure no accidents would occur. They spun, jabbed, jumped, and lunged with uncanny precision, made more impressive by their use of blindfolds. A crowd of padawans and younglings cheered and gasped as the demonstrators made various maneuvers in unison. Serena Revan made a final highly technical demonstration before the group bowed and took their leave. Zana removed her blindfold and gave her best friend a "thumbs-up" signal. "Excellent work, as usual, Serena! I felt utterly synchronized."

Serena assumed a neutral expression and asked, "Are you trying to pump up my pride, Zana? What would Master Kavar say about that?" Zana blushed crimson and hastened her step. Master Kavar was Zana's current and final master, this being her final year as a padawan. He was _special_ to Zana, and Serena liked to tease her friend about it.

"Master Kavar would say you were an excellent group leader today and-"

"-and then maybe he'd ask you to stay and learn some new _forms_?" Serena broke into giggles and Zana huffed at her childishness.

"Really, Serena! I..." She sighed heavily. "You win today, now can we just drop it?"

"Damn. Fine. I really had you going, didn't I? We can practice later, if you want." Zana nodded. Serena had taken it upon herself to improve her friend's emotion-blocking skills. A master of the blank face, she'd seen Zana blush or grow sullen on too many occasions to count. Zana's emotions betrayed her regularly, and this was an area where Serena could help. Of course, unlike the masters who taught that a Jedi should be able to resist such things completely, Serena only hid the thoughts and feelings from those around her. She erected barriers in her mind, compartmentalizing it until only she could truly know what she felt. Serena didn't want to give up all of her humanity, such that it was. Zana had started her own construction, but the opposite sex was still a trigger for her and it was an area in which diligence would be required. At random intervals, Serena baited Zana to test her reaction. Improvement was slow, at best. "Hey, let's grab a meal before heading back to the dormitory."

The girls neared the academy cafe and came to a stop outside the door as they heard raucous laughter erupt inside. Clearly, the guys had already arrived. Tren Dorn's voice carried outside the cafe and down the corridor, "You couldn't beat her, man; not a chance! And Zana's just as good. I mean, Serena's got the moves, but Zana's got speed and grace...You wouldn't be in the duel ring for more than a minute; and only that because neither would want to humiliate you too terribly." A few of those gathered made noise to agree and another voice said something inaudible. "Well, yeah, there is _that_-"

"_What_ is there, Tren?" No one had noticed the girls had just slipped into the room and they were now standing on either side of Tren's chair.

"Oh, hey, great job at the demonstration, ladies. It felt perfect. I thought I lost it for a minute, but way to hold it together, Serena. Even if it's not full battle meditation, your technique is amazing." Serena flashed a smile at Tren, and then let her face return to its nondescript default as she gazed at the group of boys. Like her, they were Jedi Knights, young and fresh-faced, ready to do good for the galaxy, and in-training for their official positions. Tren was going to be assigned the ambassadorship to Alderaan if all went as planned, Vedric had distinct reflexes that qualified him to lead the Republic's elite pilot squad, Samosh was training to join the Republic mediators representing the smaller planets and systems in negotiations. Well, and then there was Zana, a year younger, a padawan verging on knighthood, an amazing empath.

"Tren, what were you guys talking about?" Zana asked with an arched brow.

"Uh, well...Galen - over there - was saying he could probably beat you and Serena in a duel, you know, 'cause you're girls and all..." He looked a little nervous. "And, uh, I was just defending you guys. I mean, you heard me, right?" Tren didn't need these two angry with him, or it would mean extra practice in the duel ring with the team.

Serena fixed her stony gaze on a bald boy in the corner, someone she'd never met before, "Galen, is it?"

"Yes, Galen Malak. You're Serena Revan, right?" His voice was cold, distant. He, too, was very good at masking his emotions and he was blocking her from sensing any of his motivations. "If you're as good as Tren claims, perhaps I was mistaken."

Tren grinned. "Humph, better! She could and _would_ beat you blindfolded, man. Leave her alone, for your own good, and your pride's sake."

"Zana, what does Master Vandar say about pride?"

"It's the path to the dark side, Serena."

The girls grinned at the dumbfounded table of Jedi and took advantage of the moment to find places to sit. Zana, predictably, scooted into the space between Tren and Samosh. Serena was sure that, somewhere under the table, she was holding Tren's hand. Rolling her eyes, Serena decided to make the most of the situation and positioned herself on the bench across from Galen Malak. She took a moment to study the boy, who was doing all he could _not_ to make eye contact with her. His smooth, bald head was marked with tattooing of some kind, likely tribal markings he received as an infant, and his toned face was set off by large features and a prominent chin. He wasn't unattractive, by any means, and perhaps in a different situation Serena would have taken the time to properly admire his height and muscle. Currently, she was assessing him to see if he _could_, in fact, beat her in a lightsaber duel. She was pleased to note that, while he would have the advantage of his longer reach and stride, his overall size would hinder him against her slight form. What Serena lacked in size, she made up for in maneuverability and strategy. Tren was right, she could take him blindfolded.

Shaking her contemplative mood, Serena surveyed the table, "Anybody wanna buy a couple of very tired Jedi girls a drink?" A few of the boys jumped up and went to the bar to get rounds for everyone. Zana stayed by Tren, and they were talking in hushed whispers too far away for Serena to hear. She joined a few conversations, mostly lively banter and political grousing. After a few drinks, Serena withdrew from conversation and focused on Galen again.

"Galen, you know I would beat you in a match, right?" He mumbled something inaudible. She reached over the table, put two fingers under his chin, and raised his head to face her. After a few seconds, she announced, "I suppose we need a proper introduction."

"I told you my name." He was still looking at her, though she was no longer forcing him.

"Ah, but it is _I_ lacking a proper introduction!" She smirked warmly at him, not breaking eye contact. "I am Serena Revan; Knight Consular, occasional emissary to Corellia, and duel champion of Dantooine Jedi Academy. I am particularly fond of that last one, by the way." She paused, waiting to see his reaction, but when he didn't react at all, she went on, "In any case, it's very nice to meet you, Knight Malak." She flashed him another smile, and then stood to give him a great bow including hand flourishes. By the time she took her seat, he had finally broken into a grin.

"Serena _would_ be the only person who could make you smile. I've never seen a challenge that chick can't overcome. Here, Serena, have another on me." Tren passed her another Dantoo soda and they quickly fell into a discussion comparing the lifestyle of peasants on Alderaan and Corellia. No one noticed that Galen Malak had never let his gaze fall from the Jedi across the table from him; no one, that is, except Zana who, of all people at the academy, understood how Galen felt. The Jedi council forbade Jedi from forming romantic relationships, any real relationships really, with others. Such relationships often brought pain, jealousy, and passion which could easily gain control and all could lead to fear and hatred, a clear path to the dark side. But Zana couldn't help herself. Making friends and gaining admirers had always just happened for her and, more often than not, the situation was too deep by the time she realized there was a problem. And she saw a familiar look in Galen's eyes: he had instantly fallen for her friend. There was nothing for him to do about it, and Zana felt a pang of guilt as she squeezed Tren's hand.

Tren abruptly ended the conversation with Serena and got to his feet, releasing Zana's hand. "Um, okay, time for me to get outta here. Got training, you know..." He trailed off and backed away from the table. Zana stood, as well, insisting that she must get back to the dormitory and rest or she wouldn't be worth a bantha's tail tomorrow. They left hastily, heading in opposite directions, though Serena knew Zana would simply be meeting Tren somewhere a bit more _private_. They weren't a serious couple, as if that sort of thing could even exist under the noses of the Jedi masters at the academy. They were just _friends_, of a sort, and as long as they both understood that, Serena didn't feel the need to interfere.

Of course, this left her with the brooding Malak who, apparently, never smiled. While Serena had achieved the pazaak face of a Jedi master through hours of practice and meditation, he seemed to have been born that way. She looked over at him, and he was _watching_ her in the strangest way. "Um, hey, Galen? I could use a little more practice this afternoon, care to spar with me? Hand-to-hand or lightsaber, your choice..."

Again, he smiled and Serena was taken in by his smile and all it entailed. She had leaned over the table to speak to him and-by her proximity-she sensed the varied emotions washing over him. Relief, admiration, doubt, anxiety, love. Love? She wasn't sure that was quite right. It was something else, something between love and lust-need.

Fear gripped Serena's heart as she felt it, too: a need, a desire for him that she had never felt for anything or anyone. Before she could lean into him for a kiss, she faltered and stood, head high, applying her stony gaze, trying desperately to banish the heaviness of such feelings. Galen stood as well. "Lightsaber."

The two wordlessly hiked to the training room and their lightsaber practice lasted until neither was able to hold their weapon any longer. They parted as friends and returned to their chambers, separately. Each opting for a long, cold visit to the refresher.

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Galen watched as the demonstrators lunged and parried, following a sensor ball with nothing but the Force to guide them. He knew a few of them, particularly Tren Dorn, who lived in the same dormitory wing. The leader of the group was a girl, just tall enough that the top of her head would reach his shoulder. She was small and toned, her skin was slightly tan, and her black hair whirled around her as she fought. The deliberate, calculating way in which she maneuvered astounded him, but he was sure she lacked the strength to defend herself against a real opponent.

Having lost interest, he left the duel ring and headed for the cafe. He was sitting alone, nursing a Dantoo soda, when the first of the exhibitionists arrived. It was Tren and some of his friends. Noticing Galen alone at a huge table - the only table that wasn't full - they abruptly changed course and surrounded him. Tren sat down and the others followed suit. "Hey, man, what're you doing all alone? I mean, I'm _sure_ you'd like some company." Tren gestured to his friends. "No worries, they're all good guys and they're buyin'!"

"Hi." A dour reply, at best.

He'd endured their jibes and raucous conversation, rather glad to be included despite himself. And, overall, things were looking up for Galen, until _they_ arrived. The girls from the lightsaber demonstration team arrived in the cafe just in time to hear Tren razz him about his claim that he could probably take Serena or Zana in a fight because they were so frail. The girls took it all rather well, Tren smoothed it over, and suddenly Galen found himself sitting straight across from the girl with the tan skin and black hair. Fighting every urge to look at her, to admit to himself that he had misjudged her. She joked with Tren and traded laughing insults with some of the others. But then she did something completely unexpected: she spoke to him. No longer joking or loud, a simple statement, "Galen, you know I would beat you in a match, right?" At that moment, he knew it was true. And more than that, he knew he wanted her to beat him. He wanted her to prove him wrong. He wanted her to sweat in the duel ring. He wanted her to learn him through battle. He wanted her to know him, fully. He wanted her...

She never took her eyes off of him as she tried to make him smile. Galen fought the urge, trying to keep himself in check as a proper Jedi Knight is required. But, finally, his face cracked into a smile and when she smiled back, it warmed his cheeks. He hoped she didn't notice, and apparently she didn't because Tren passed her another drink and they began discussing the politics of their assigned planets. Galen couldn't take his eyes off of her, though, and as Tren, Zana, and the others left the cafe, she turned to face him.

As she leaned closer to him, standing to do so, the scent of her sweat did strange things to his mind. She was speaking, of this he was certain, but he couldn't really focus on what she was saying. He heard "hand-to-hand or lightsaber" and figured out she was asking him to practice with her. She was so close to him that he was sure she could detect his thoughts, but she wasn't backing away from him. Quite the opposite: she too was beginning to breathe a little harder and the longer he held her gaze, the closer she moved. They were close, so close, when she suddenly stood up and backed away. For a moment, she had looked…happy, then confused, and now she wore her Jedi-trained scowl again. Galen couldn't believe he'd lost control so easily. It was her, something about Serena. He cut through the haze of his need to utter a single word, "Lightsaber."


	2. Part 2

**One day after **_**For the Republic: Part 1**_

_There is no emotion; there is peace...There is no passion; there is serenity._ She'd been meditating, repeating the Jedi code, since leaving the refresher. The cold stone floor and spartan positioning of her body had left her numb and Serena reeled with vertigo when trying to stand. How many hours had she been there, naked on the floor, punishing herself for losing control? Draining the...the taint of the need ignited by Galen's...Galen's own need for _her_. It wasn't lust or one of its many variations. It was a hunger for knowledge: of her, of every facet and alcove, every niche and edge. And she had felt it, too; sweeping through her and pulling her closer and closer to him. Even still, she felt compelled to seek him out and answer it.

_Sweet Force, what am I going to do?_ Even with her mind in its proper neutral state, she knew she wouldn't trust herself around him alone. She needed to speak to Zana, tell her exactly what had happened. After so many hours of mental cleansing and emptying, he was still on her mind and a tendril of unease was snaking through her brain, around her carefully placed protections, settling in for a long gestation. She slipped into a robe, left her own chamber, and gently tapped on Zana's door. After a moment's delay, it opened, barely a crack.

"What's going on, Serena? You look like death--"

"I need to talk. Now. Tell Tren to come back later." Zana blushed slightly, but nodded in accession. The door closed. Serena waited the amount of time she estimated it would take a man to pull on his trousers and robes, and then Tren opened the door.

"Um, hi, Serena." Serena grunted a greeting, set on discussing things with Zana and not getting distracted by his antics. She passed through the door, locked it, and sat on the edge of Zana's bunk. Her friend was apparently in the refresher. As she waited in silence, Serena thought about the relationship between her teammates. _Surely our masters must be aware of what they're doing. How could they not?_ More than once, Zana's feelings about Tren had boiled over and been picked up by Serena: her joy, her release. And the jealousy that had surfaced in Serena's mind was reminder enough as to why Jedi weren't supposed to form personal attachments. Jealousy was the temptation of the dark side, deep within her, wanting to be set free. It was the darkness each Jedi faced within themselves, in all its varied guises.

Serena found herself doubting that, now; wondering if Zana's way was a happier path with less temptation and guilt. 

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"So, what's so urgent?" When Zana exited the refresher, the look on Serena's face had chilled her. It wasn't her normal contemplative Jedi mask, but a scowl, deeply creasing her features. Her skin was pale and drawn and she looked nearly faint, but in a trance. "Serena, what have you eaten, since we were in the cafe?"

"I haven't."

"Why not?!"

"That guy, Galen...We went to the training room to practice for a while." For half the evening, until neither could lift their lightsaber and they were too exhausted to acknowledge what... "Look, I need to talk to you, Zana. About, um, you and Tren." She was losing her nerve.

"Serena, please, let's not start now."

"You don't understand. Come here." Zana walked over to the bunk and sat next to her friend.

"What's wrong? You're not acting like yourself. Did something happen?" Serena felt the tears start to fall as she realized how ludicrous the whole thing was. Zana took this for confirmation, "Did Galen do something to you? I could get Tren to speak to him--maybe convince him to go out on the plains and get lost in a cave for a few days?" Serena shook her head, no. _Force! I'm a Jedi Knight, not a youngling._ It was like the time before the Jedi came for her, when her parents were dead and Serena was lost, so lost. She felt lost, now.

"Zana, I have a confession to make. Something I never realized, but I do now, and I want to apologize. All of the times I have tried to turn you away from...your flagrant openness with all people, the way you allow yourself to tangle into their lives and they seem to love you for it…I'm sorry. I never knew what you felt, how hard those feelings might be to turn from and…and I overestimated your control over the situation. How do you do it? I was sitting here thinking, while I waited for you, and I realized I'm jealous: of you and Tren, of you and Kavar—" Zana blushed slightly but held her tongue. "—of your ability to _be with_ people, to share things with others and have them reciprocate. Sometimes I wonder if I _can_ connect with others anymore. My barriers...but last night, with Galen--" Zana was listening, poised on the edge of the bunk. "--Zana, I felt it. His desire...mine. The rush of it through my veins and the emptiness left behind in its wake when it died, unfulfilled." Serena grabbed Zana's nearest hand, seeking strength in the presence of her friend, and fell silent. She was trembling.

Zana squeezed the hand, recognizing the desperation in that act. For all of their friendship, Serena Revan wasn't one to reach out to others for support, and now that she was, Zana wasn't going to be the one to turn her away. "Serena?"

"Help me cleanse it from my mind. As we've done with _your_ mind, help me rebuild my barriers. Please? I can't see him again if I'm unprepared to face this head-on and defeat it. And you know I must face it eventually." Serena forced a grin. "Besides, staying in my room for all eternity isn't the answer." She was trying to lighten the mood, so Zana indulged her with a small smile.

The two sat on the floor, cold stone chilling them through their robes, knees together, and hand-in-hand. They cleared their minds and began building the walls. As they worked, Zana felt the need to ask, "You won't regret this, will you? My own mental blocks fall with my will, but your will is unmatched. Once this is done, do you think it can be _un_done?"

"I don't want it to be undone. I'll be damned if I'm going to lose control like that again." They built walls into the night, and retired to bed as the first rays of the yellow Dantooine sun filtered into the chamber.

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Pacing the room was doing him no good at all. He strode out onto the plains, to clear his head and make sense of his thoughts.

Until he'd met Serena, Galen had been content: a proper Jedi with proper thoughts and a proper sense of distance from those around him. Today, the stories and histories of the Jedi archive held no truth for him. Food was ash in his mouth. And his mind...it wouldn't be still. He was supposed to be preparing for his appointment to the archives on Coruscant; instead, he closed his eyes and relived the sparring match with Serena. She blocked his every jab and out-maneuvered his most cunning ploys. Her toned muscles tense and flex with measured precision. She moved like a machine, never second guessing or hesitating; fully committed to every feint and parry.

When they could no longer fight, they simply bowed to one another in the traditional fashion and walked away in opposite directions. Not a word had been spoken since they left the cafe, and all desire had died to a dull ember of denial after the strenuous battle. Meditation was the proper course, but it only agitated him and his nerves were wearing thin.

_I will go to cafe, eat, and return to my chamber. If I see her, I will ignore her._ It was more of a hope than a plan. He began walking back to the cafe, chanting the Jedi Code and considering each line as he spoke it.


	3. Part 3

**One day after **_**For the Republic: 2**_

**Courtyard, Jedi Enclave, Dantooine**

**Master Vandar.**

"Knight Revan, is there a problem? I feel...a disturbance around you. Alteration has occurred, I think?"

"Yes, Master, but it's nothing I can't handle. Thank you for your concern." Serena smiled, turned on her heel, and headed straight for the cafe. She was blocking her mind against something...Vandar watched her walk away, and he was reminded of the day he met her for the first time:

_The room was filled with children. We had taken on thirty younglings and they crowded about the common area. Some were fearful, yes, but many radiated excitement. I was standing at the center, studying the way the Force swirled and darted around them. Each year, there was usually one student--at most two--in whom the Force shone most brightly, whose destiny was—potentially—integral to the future of the galaxy. This particular group seemed almost __**engulfed**__ in Force-led destiny. I knew these children were special: the world movers, the myth makers. But what type of myth and legend would they inspire? Ah, destiny is a tricky thing and, oft times, knowing it only clouds our judgment. This group of children...would bear watching._

"Youngling apprentices, welcome to our Jedi Academy. Your academy...and your new home..."

The welcome speech went on for half an hour; I was weaving comfort through the Force among the children, helping them relax and release any lingering fears. Soon, all of the children were smiling and happily chatting amongst themselves. One small girl stood at the center of a large group, discussing something at length. When I approached to welcome them personally, she greeted me first: "Good morning, Master Vandar. My name is Serena Revan and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance." Many of the others had followed her lead: "Zana Dex" "Samosh Bakal" "Tren Dorn" "Vedrik Jast".

She had been so open and eager to learn, talkative and candid. Yet, she was always in control, a prime example of the Jedi Code in action. Today, he saw none of these qualities. The young woman before him was shadowed by a heavy swirling in the force, darker by far than when she arrived on Dantooine. As she walked across the courtyard, he wondered if her time of destiny was near. And if so, would the other "children" follow her?

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**Serena.**

She entered the cafe slowly. Deliberately trying to blend in, she picked her way across the room to Tren and Zana's table and took a seat without a word. Tren jumped up and, to Serena's surprise, almost ran on his way to get more sodas. _What did she tell him?_ Her friend tried to start up a conversation, "Good to see you out of your chambers. I was worried about you."

"He's not coming, is he?"

"Not that I know of." Serena visibly relaxed. "...I mean, I didn't ask. I don't want Tren to think I want him to invite--" But Zana never finished her sentence. Galen Malak had entered the cafe and claimed a seat at a corner table, facing away from Serena. Before sitting, he glanced at her, his face blank. Having stayed up all of the previous night preparing with Zana, she thought she would be ready to see him again--stoic, unmoved, neutral. But when she had told Zana that she didn't want to be able to undo the barriers they were erecting in her mind...she'd lied...she'd lied to herself. And now that she could reach him in ten steps, those barriers were practically crumbling. _What is it about this particular man that gets under my skin? Gah!_ She closed her eyes and extended her Force-sense toward his unique signature in the Force, but she met a wall. Was it deliberate? Was he blocking her, too?

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**Zana.**

She was observing the whole thing when she realized that Serena had closed her eyes to try to connect with him. Zana sighed, knowing that all of their hard work had been for naught. The barriers hadn't worked, and they had probably already fallen completely. It was something unfathomable and the only possibility was that Serena had wanted it--_She chose to give in!_. No one could make her do anything against her will. It occurred to Zana that Master Vandar might suggest that it was the overriding will of the Force. In either case, the path was set. _My friend, I'm afraid you won't be able to deviate from the path you've chosen. Seeking him through the Force...You've committed to him, in a way...and I hope he's worth it._

She felt a slight shudder in the Force, and Serena smiled. She opened her eyes and looked at Zana, "You're right. I've committed to him. An unlikely friendship, I think, with me erecting barriers and him putting up mental Force shields--against one another." She was still smiling, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Look, Zana, I'll be back later. Tell Tren I'm sorry about the soda, it'll have to wait." She stood and left Zana sitting alone in the cafe before she could protest.

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**Serena.**

As she left the cafe, Serena was careful not to look at Galen and focused on controlling each step, trying not to look too eager to leave. Zana watched her go; Serena could feel her friend's eyes on her back as she walked away. _You've committed to him..._ She had--more than Zana could know.

When she reached out to Galen through the Force, Serena had lingered in her Force-sense, outside the shield Galen used to block her. And suddenly, she was actually standing there, next to the green glassy wall extending as high as she could see into a black sky. It was smooth and warm to the touch, glowing green with an inner light, and Serena felt she could stay there forever. She belonged there. Sensing someone nearby, she turned to look for him. He was standing nearby, watching her from behind the glass. They moved closer, face to face, separated by the thin green wall. "Galen."

"Why are you here?"

She swallowed, took a deep breath, and haltingly began: "I tried to avoid this...I tried to block my thoughts of you with internal barriers, and I tried simply staying in my room...I tried to follow the code, dismissing all emotion and passion for peace and serenity..." A tear rolled down her left cheek and Galen raised a hand as to wipe it away, but his hand met glass. He left it there, his palm flat against the warm, pulsing barrier. "I tried to avoid _you_." She put her own hand to the glass, palm-to-palm with Galen across the Force shield. "And I can't..." The tears were flowing freely now, and Serena didn't care if she appeared weak or desperate. She _was_ weak and desperate, apparently. Galen continued to watch her, a pained look on his face, trying to make sense of the situation. 

"What do you want me to do? We cannot be together. You know that; I know that. Everyone knows about your friends, Tren and..." He groped for the name. "...Zana? But, they aren't serious. There's nothing between them, only friendship and a mutual need for release. They are 'lovers' no more than any Jedi. But..." He paused to look Serena in the eye. "...that's something we can never have." And Serena knew it was true, even as he spoke it out loud. Despite having only met once before, they were already so much more than Zana and Tren, though she couldn't pinpoint why or how.

"Can I see you, Galen? Please, just for a minute…Meet me on the plains, by the ruins to the northeast. I'd like to talk."

He hesitated for only a moment: "Okay." The green glass shattered and fell all around them. Serena found herself palm-to-palm, face-to-face with Galen, who looked just as bewildered as she. Then--tentatively--he laced his fingers in hers and lowered their hands. His free hand reached up to move a stray lock out of her face and it lingered on her cheek. "I'll meet you there in two hours." He examined her face, burning it into his memory. And then it all faded to black and Serena felt a lurch as she returned to herself. When she opened her eyes, Zana was looking at her in the strangest way, but Serena could only smile at her friend.

"You're right. I've committed to him..." She excused herself from Zana's company and returned to her dormitory to meditate.

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**Galen.**

She had been looking at him when he entered. And in the interest of fulfilling his promise to himself, Galen only took one look. Her hair was different, not sweaty and lopsided as he'd seen it before. She had left it down today, in curly black waves over her shoulders and down her back; a few loose curls framed her face. She looked like a finely crafted doll, but he knew the power in one flick of her lightsaber and pitied the man who ever decided to underestimate her. Thankful for the inner calm of meditation, Galen did not feel the well of emotions surge at her presence as they had the night before. He sat down with his back to her. _One step at a time..._ He was confident that--eventually--he would be able to speak to her without losing his emotional calm. It would just take time and, for now, he needed to stay away from her.

This was harder said than done. Without warning, Galen could feel Serena in his mind. She was pushing against his mental defenses, making it very difficult _not_ to think about her. When he was plunged into the Force-powered illusion, it was unexpected but not unwelcome. If she wanted to confront him, it was probably best to deal with it now. The transition was instantaneous and suddenly he was standing behind a green Force shield in an apparent illusion of his mind, watching her admire the craftsmanship of the green glowing wall. She really was beautiful and he fought a sudden urge to call out to her. She snapped her head in his direction and there was no denying that she had seen him. Reluctantly, Galen walked toward the glass. He wanted to ask her what she was doing in his fracking head! What right did she have? But, face-to-face across the glass, the only thing he could think of was how much he wanted to cross that barrier and hold her.

Then she spoke, and he returned to his senses, "Why are you here?" He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but the words didn't seem to want to come out. She looked slightly hurt, and nervous.

"I tried to avoid this...I _tried_ to follow the code...I tried to avoid _you_...And I can't..." With those words she had spoken his own heart and he reached up to comfort her by wiping away her tears. His hand met the glass instead, and the warm pulsing gave him a mental ground.

He used Tren and her friend as an example, desperately trying to convince her, and himself, that they could never be together in that half-way, empty, passionless way. He wanted to cross the barrier, kiss her, show her the only way they _could_ be together; but, his Jedi training wouldn't allow it. He began mentally reciting the code while they stood silently watching one another across the green glass. When she finally spoke again, Galen knew he had to choose. He couldn't just continue denying it while admiring her from a far. It had to be all or nothing because if he gave her his heart, it was for keeps. The need arose in him, mirroring the night at the cafe, and he knew they _must_ meet. That there really had been no choice, and, not for the first time, he wondered if the Force was guiding him or if that was simply a convenient excuse. In reply to her request, he managed to say, "Okay."

The glass crashed and whirled around them as it fell, reminding him of Master Vandar's lesson regarding swirling Force. What was done, was done; the barrier was down and his last defense again his feelings toward her had shattered. When everything faded to black, he was shocked to open his eyes onto the harsh light of the real world.

After Serena had been gone for a while, Galen Malak stood and quietly slipped out of the cafe. Zana watched him go, as well, and wondered exactly where this was going. Under her breath, she couldn't help but mutter, "He's committed to you, as well. May the Force be with you."


	4. Part 4

**Two hours after **_**For the Republic: Part 3**_**; a direct continuation.**

Serena Revan's bed chamber.

Serena meditated, trying to calm her emotions and convince her heart of what her mind already knew: they couldn't be together. The logical portion of her brain repeated the mantra, while her body and heart told her otherwise. With a sigh, she stood, donned her brown outer robes, and attached her lightsaber to her belt. She was still getting used to constantly wearing it, but the lightsaber she made herself was quickly becoming an extension of her body, and it was necessary protection for a walk on the plains. Kath hounds were generally docile and unlikely to attack a human being, but it had happened before. Prudence was a virtue among the Jedi.

The plains of Dantooine were hilly expanses of grassland canyons carved by wind over millennia. Traveling northeast, Serena soon found herself amidst a blackened set of ruins built before human settlement on Dantooine. As far as she knew, no one had entered the pyramidal building since the enclave was established; no one could seem to get the door open. But there were fallen pillars on which to sit, and wildflowers grew around the building, softening its edges and lending a relaxing element to the atmosphere. It was a good place for reflection and meditation.

As she approached the ruins, Serena saw that Galen was already there, lying on his back on one of the large rectangular pillars. She was close enough to see that his eyes were shut and she guessed he had been dozing for a while. He looked so peaceful that she sat down near his head at the end of the pillar to wait.

_There's a dimple in his chin._ She hadn't noticed that before. His eyelashes were long and elegant, which explained his gentle, "big-eyed" look when they were open. His hands were calloused from lightsaber training. She reached out to touch the large, calloused hand closest to her.

Galen heard her approach; her steps were light and delicate. She paused just short of the pillar, and then sat down next to where he lay. He could hear her breathing and smell soap and sweat on her skin; it was intoxicating. For a while they sat, unmoving. Just as he finally decided to open his eyes, she did something completely unexpected: she touched his hand. Without warning, all of his feelings for her, buried and denied, boiled to the surface. In one swift movement, Galen had grabbed the hand and yanked her down to him.

She didn't fight or pull away; she leaned into the kiss, trembling and eyes shut tight. Tentatively, he flicked his tongue against her lips, which reacted by opening, ever so slightly, and she responded in kind, somewhat awkwardly testing her own tongue against his. A first for both, it was strangely natural: a physical manifestation of their previously latent sexuality, a lifetime of frustration being released. Galen sat up and wrapped his arms around Serena; kissing her head, her ear, her cheek, her mouth. She let out a moan before she could stop herself and he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips harder into hers. He needed her now…_Damn the fedding Jedi rules…_  
But something snapped at the word _'Jedi.'_ His passion died to a vague ache and he backed away from Serena. _This is all wrong._

"I…wow…um…" He tried to catch his breath. "Serena…can't…sorry…"

"Shh…I know…"

They sat down next to one another on the pillar, thought better of it, and moved farther apart.

"Why?" He was shaking his head.

Serena looked over at him, trying to discern what he meant. "_'Why?'_ What do you mean, Galen? Why what? Why did we just do that? Why did we meet here? Why do we feel the way we do?" She was trembling with anger—_Anger?!_—mostly at herself. "Ask any of them and they all have the same answer: I don't know."

Galen chose his words carefully, "Serena, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. Sorry for complicating your life." Sighing, he looked away from her. "I just…when I am near you, I want to touch…I want to hold you; it is uncontrollable. From a distance, I see how ill-advised it is. We are Jedi! Jedi do not act like this!" He paused to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "They do not prepare us for _this_." He picked up a stone and chucked it across the field of pillars. "They teach us that _'there is no emotion, there is peace,' _but what happens when there IS emotion? They keep us insulated and isolated from the time we are younglings. I'm having trouble seeing the wisdom in that at this moment."

He stood and paced to the end of the pillar and back. "_Why_ is it _'…no emotion…peace?'_ I have never known peace, not really. I was lonely, but too afraid to acknowledge it. I might never have realized it without you. I know more peace right now, here, than I've known since I came to Dantooine. I thought I could just ignore the way I feel, ignore _you_. I couldn't stand it for more than a few hours…" He stopped speaking, embarrassed for having been so candid, and slumped down on the pillar. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hands. His face was tracked where tears had fallen as he spoke, another embarrassment he was hoping she wouldn't notice. "I do not understand how this…_attraction_…formed so quickly."

"Galen…" It was the most he'd said to her since they met. Maybe the most he'd ever said at one time. Serena moved closer to him and used her fingers to wipe away the grime and tears from his face. She held up her hand, palm facing Galen. He looked puzzled for a moment, and then put his hand palm-to-palm with hers. Their fingers interlaced and he wrapped his free arm around her lithe form. She sighed and wished they could stay like this forever.

After a comfortable silence, Galen felt the need to ask, "What _can_ we do?"

"Well…we know we can't be together. There are so many reasons why Jedi shouldn't be like this; we've heard them since we were younglings. I don't wanna fall to the dark side, obviously, and neither should you. But I want to be near you…do you think we can try to just be friends? At least we could see each other. I know it's not the same, but we just aren't free to choose." Galen nodded. "Nothing has to change. We're Jedi. We can still be Jedi and be friends—it's the only way."

_It's the only way._ He started pacing again. "I can't talk about this anymore." He paused, scratching behind his ear. "Master Dorak would suggest we meditate on it. Master Zhar would suggest we spar." Galen activated his lightsaber and prepared for her attack. At this rate, his technique would be improving greatly.

Zana hadn't seen Serena for a few hours and was getting worried. She knew she'd gone somewhere with Galen Malak, but she hadn't said where. A soft knock on Zana's chambers produced an answer. Serena went over to the sofa and sat down as her friend locked the door; she was covered in sweat and grit. Zana turned and immediately asked, "Where have you been!? What happened with Malak?"  
"Everything. Nothing. I don't know. I'm so confused, and I think you're the only person who can understand."

Zana nodded, knowing that, in all likelihood, Serena was right. "Do you love him?" It was something that had to be asked.

"I don't think so. I mean, I've never 'loved' anyone, except maybe you. Would I recognize it?…No, I don't think it's love. I…when I think of him, I want him nearby. To know that there is somebody else looking out for me, like you and Tren do. I think I _could_ have loved him, in another life, but it's just not meant to be."

"Good. Keep that attitude. 'It's not meant to be.' I hate to be harsh, but it's the only way to settle your mind and push away the darkness. I've been where you are now—I'm there a lot more often than I let on." Zana paused to appraise her friend, arching her brow, "He must be a good kisser. I hope I'm the only one who could feel it." Serena blushed. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. But, for your own good, it might be best to make it a strictly platonic relationship. Don't touch him if you can help it, and I'd avoid where ever you were tonight; you wouldn't want to repeat it. Most of all, don't worry; I'll be around to help you stick to it." She hugged Serena before showing her to the door. "Tomorrow's a new day."

**Two weeks later. **

The world was spinning and crashing all around her. The bunk wouldn't stay still and Serena was tossed to the stone floor. She lay there on the verge of blacking out and called to Galen with all the Force she could muster. Moments later, the chamber door burst open, and Galen Malak stood in the doorway. As soon as he realized the lump of blankets on the floor was Serena, he was at her side. Untangling her legs. Smoothing her hair. Checking for injury. Gently coercing her back to consciousness and holding her like she could slip away at any minute. When she realized where she was and who the strong, protective arms that were holding her belonged to, she grabbed onto him with a fury. Galen managed a weak smile of relief and kissed her head, despite himself. After two weeks of trying to avoid it, Serena was content to remain like that forever, but a tickle in the back of her mind kept distracting her. There was something she needed to remember. Why was she on the floor and not in her bunk? A single thought broke through the haze and she let out a yell:

"Zana! Zana, I'm coming…!"

She tried to get up, faltered, fell against Galen's chest. In the end, he half carried her to Zana's room next door. When no one answered their knocks, Serena—standing on her own now—opened it and rushed in. Zana was curled up in the center of her bed, knees pulled tight against her chest. She was shaking and sweating, but otherwise seemingly comatose. She kept saying something; Serena leaned closer to her friend's mouth, trying desperately to hear what she mumbled: "manda…mandalorians…onderon…so close now…no time…so fast…"

Eventually, Serena made out that the Mandalorians, a previously distant threat, had invaded Onderon. The Republic fleet had been in skirmishes with the Mandalorians on occasion for the past year and were spread thin, but the Mandalorians had mostly chosen to invade planets that were not aligned with the Republic. While the Republic had been requesting the aid of the Jedi Council for some time, the Council had adopted an attitude of _watchful waiting_. Onderon was a member of the Republic, and the fleet was surely on their way there now.

Zana kept moaning, tossing, and turning into the night, and Serena finally fell asleep next to her as morning approached. Galen had lounged in a chair and snored off-and-on until the early morning sun broke over the windowsill. He stirred, noted that both girls were finally asleep, and made for the refresher. Master Kavar had to know about this; Zana was his padawan.

"Knight Malak, thank you for bringing this to my attention. How is Zana?"

"She's resting now. Serena stayed up most of the night with her, so I let them both sleep a while longer."

"Good thinking. You know how Zana can be sometimes…feisty isn't the best word for it, but it's certainly the first that comes to mind." He turned to face Galen. "I'm troubled by what you've told me. As an archivist, I'm sure you know that the Mandalorian threat has always loomed, since the time of Exar Kun…" Master Kavar hesitated momentarily—dismissing old memories, most likely. "Even before that. More recently, they've been weaving through Republic space, picking off the non-Republic worlds and putting our fleet on edge. If they've really advanced so far into Republic space, if they've attacked Onderon, the fleet will be activated to respond. Since we haven't received any news of the fleet, I can't be sure if Zana's 'vision' was of the future, the present, or simply a dream. In any case, I'll follow up on this and let you know what I find."

"Thank you, Master Kavar. I know that Zana speaks most highly of you, and we appreciate your help."

Kavar smoothed his robes and stood a bit straighter. He cleared his throat, "Again, thank you for informing me. Please ask Padawan Dex and Knight Revan to report to me at their earliest convenience." Kavar showed Galen to the door.

Just before the noon meal, Zana awoke, screaming. Serena sat bolt upright in bed and reached over to comfort her friend. She ordered Galen to retrieve Tren, which he did immediately. The three friends tried to calm Zana's screaming and ease the madness in her mind by using their combined Force talents. They wove a pattern of calm and restoration through her mind until her screams were a distant memory and Zana reclined on the bed staring up at the ceiling. "It was awful." She spontaneously began to recount her vision:

"Drop droids were landing all around me. Thick black smoke. Yelling…children with burns, people missing limbs and wandering in shock. I walked the streets of Iziz, myself, for hours before realizing that the things I was tripping over were bodies and the sticky wetness on my scalp was my own blood. I was wounded, losing consciousness. I could hear blasters, swords clanking against one another…" Her voice bore a sing-song quality.

Zana paused and stared at the ceiling again. Just as the three had given up hope that she would continue the story, she did, "When I looked at the sky, there were ships everywhere, and more of the droids were falling to Onderon as fast as they could be launched. And that awful moon…i kept walking hoping to find a refuge away from the fighting but it was everywhere there was a strange shape hunched over in a ditch nearby and i lingered to investigate i rolled the body onto its back and it was ME!" Tears had started rolling down her cheeks and her eyes took on a distant, glassy look. Serena ordered Galen out again, with the mission of bringing Master Kavar as quickly as possible. While they waited for Kavar, Serena held her friend, Tren held them both, and all three rocked in the small bunk in Zana Dex's chambers…

Then the screaming began anew. _Thank the Force these walls are nearly sound proof._

"Five billion! Five billion people! Sweet Force, it was five billion!"

After the first hour, Zana's friends had bound her hands to keep her from scratching her face, though some damage had already been done. Tren stroked her cheek as she screamed and rambled about the "five billion" and Master Kavar tried unsuccessfully to infiltrate Zana's mind.

After the second hour, her screams had been reduced to hoarse whispers.

By the third hour, she was silent and staring, alive but catatonic. In the fourth hour…

"Ka…var?" It was Galen who responded, Kavar had been summoned. Serena and the others had finally been coerced to go and eat something while he watched Zana for any change.

"Zana, it's Galen. Do you want some water?" She nodded feebly. "I am going to tip this into your mouth very slowly." He eased the water into her mouth and, after initial difficulties, she managed to swallow it all.

"Oh, Galen…five billion people died…I felt them all, each individual life returning to the Force." She paused to drink more water. "What's happening? I can feel death all around me and no one else seems to feel it." She broke down in tears again, as Galen untied her bindings.

"There's been a general assembly called for this afternoon. All of the knights and masters will attend. Do you think you can stand?" Zana tried her legs and found them wobbly, but stable. "Master Kavar was granted a special request to include you because of your closeness to the situation. We should know more after that." Galen helped her into her robes and walked her down to the cafe.

"This assembly shall come to order!" Master Vrook was looking dour, as usual. The hall fell silent. "We have called an assembly to apprise you of current events as shown to us via…Force visions and confirmed by the admiral of the Republic fleet. For those who don't know, invaders known as _Mandalorians_—" He spat out the word in disgust. "—have been a constant menace to the Republic for more than thirty years. For the last year, the Republic fleet has engaged the Mandalorian threat at several key points along the edge of Republic space. Lately, they have become more aggressive. Overnight, Onderon's walled city of Iziz fell to their invasion." A tear rolled down Zana's cheek. "Cinnagar in the Empress Teta system has also been destroyed. There were few survivors. Empress Teta was one of the first worlds to join the Republic and for its capital city to sustain such damage…it was a loss of more than five billion people." Zana felt dizzy, and Tren wrapped an arm around her for support. "The Republic has requested assistance and, after much deliberation, the High Council has decided not to become involved in this war. The risks far outweigh the benefits of Jedi involvement. The Council has chosen not to discuss this subject outside the Council chambers and it is not open for debate."

A murmur broke out in the crowd, quickly rising to a roar, and requiring Master Vrook to enhance his voice with the Force, "We shall have order in this hall." All conversation ended as his voice reverberated off the walls. "We understand your concerns and ask that you use patience and your training to calm these emotions and see the wisdom of the Council. You will all continue your training in preparation to take your planned assignments, as previously arranged."

The assembly was adjourned, but very few Jedi left the assembly hall. In the minority, Zana, Tren, Galen, and Serena walked back to Zana's chambers.

Master Vandar watched them go. Soon, my children, the time will come, I think, to fulfill your destiny. The road you walk will be hard. May the Force be with you.


	5. Part 5

**Six weeks after **_**For the Republic: Part 5**_

Serena slept with her knees pulled up high against her chest; the blankets had fallen to the floor hours ago. The only noise in the room was Galen's breathing. When she had left him, alone and scared in the atrium of the academy, Galen hadn't known what to do. For days, he had wandered, brooding, replaying that night in the temple in his head. As he saw it, there was a choice to be made: leave her alone or watch over her even if she hated him. Choosing the later had been the harder path.

The night that he summoned the nerve to speak to her about it, they'd fought. Something between them was different...everything was different--and he'd told her as much:

_"Serena, I am not sure what happened, but something has changed. _We_ have changed. We need to accept it and work past it. The things we did--"_

"Don't say it! Do-not-say-it, Galen Malak!" She spat his name out as one would acid. Or poison.

"Wait, don't say what? That I am sorry for what I did to you? That I am so sorry I hurt you?" He fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Stop it! Leave me alone! Get out, Galen! Get out of my fracking room and my Force-damned life!"

"serena..." It was a whisper; a plea for her to look at him. "Serena, I ca--"

"NO!" He felt the crack of his head hitting the stone wall before he even realized she'd raised her hand. "Get out, now."

Fighting vertigo, he regained his feet and turned to leave, but decided to say what he'd come to say. He didn't turn to face her. "I know that you and I are simply not meant to be. I know it, but that does not change the fact that I cannot get you out of my head. There is no peace without you. If you don't want me anymore, I understand; but, I still want to help you and be near you..." He trailed off, trying to imagine how to approach the subject. "I...I know that you are still picking up Zana's Force visions and...and...I worry about you. I think you need someone to watch over you, as Tren watches Zana. Someone to be around should something happen to you." He swallowed and wondered if she was looking at him now. "Serena, let me be that person. You may not want me anymore, but please let me help you?" Galen closed his eyes. Blast! My head!_ She'd been angry at him, alright. _She used the Force against me in anger..._ He shuddered._

"OK." It was a tiny reply, quiet and unsure.

He turned to look at her, giddy with the sudden release of the pressure he'd be carrying in his chest for days. "Okay? You will not regret it. I'm sorry for everything, but I will make it up to you, I promise!"

"Oh, Galen..." She still sounded small and broken. "It wasn't your fault. I heard the dark side call my name. It called me by my last name, it called me 'Revan', and promised me power. It promised me...you...that I could at last be with you, properly, without constantly needing to deny myself the one thing I want. I know why the Jedi Code forbids relationships like ours: My feelings for you are a weakness, a cut inside me. The dark side was attracted to the 'cut' like a firaxan to blood. I know I'm not being very persuasive, but you have to believe it was the temple, Galen, not you. If you would watch over me, I...I would be grateful. Just...just don't blame yourself anymore." She ran her hands over her face, as if trying to wipe away the memory. "I held you to the wall until the dark energy had time to infiltrate your mind. There were voices in the temple, and they said that I could make you happy, that I should try to make you happy. And you _**looked**__ happy...__**I**__ was happy...But when we came out of the temple...I realized what I'd done...And the pain..." She looked ready to collapse, but Galen got an arm under her and moved her to the bunk. His own compromised state forgotten, they lay in her bed together and fell asleep. _

And now, almost a month later, Galen was still her guardian. He watched her sleep, most nights, and was just thankful that she had let him back into her life. They were nearly back to some semblance of normalcy: joking and talking together. The wounds left behind by their temple excursion had nearly healed…all of them. In the darkness, there was a noise, a click in the corridor indicating that Tren had come out of Zana's room. A soft knock on the chamber door confirmed this.

"Galen, hey, wanna get some caffa? I know it's early--no sun yet--but c'mon. The girls are fine. They're sleepin' like babies." Tren started calling Serena and Zana "the girls" when Galen had taken up temporary residence as Serena's guard. _Why don't the masters do anything to stop us? It isn't as if they are blind to what we're doing. Is that possible?_ Tren didn't like the idea of sneaking around; it had been unintentional. Unfortunately, intentions only went so far with the Jedi Order.

"Do you even know anything about babies, Tren? I had a younger brother, on Telos, before they brought me here. He NEVER slept soundly..." The two chuckled as they walked down the corridor. "In fact, he always woke up screaming, as I recall. He was always disturbing the tribe."

"Oh, then perhaps my description was accurate, after all?" Tren's smile was contagious, and soon Galen's mood had been considerably improved. That is, until he remembered that there had been something he wanted to ask Tren.

"Hey, did Kavar get us an audience? I never got a chance to ask Serena."

"Yes, we meet with the Council on Coruscant in three days. Hope that's enough time to prepare. The girls have this crazy idea that the Council will listen to _us_ better because we're men. But Zana's words coming out of my mouth?"

"Serena's out of mine? It is probably hopeless, but we can only try. The girls are right, too many innocent lives are at stake. Now that the Mandalorians have entered Core Republic space, the Council should be sending us to fight. Still, they hesitate, _consider_, debate." Galen shook his head.

"The people of Alderaan have asked me to speak to the Council on their behalf, as well. Since I am going to be their ambassador soon--well, if things ever settle down, anyway--they count on me to be their voice to the Council. They've come to trust me and, more importantly, my motives. From where I stand, that's valuable. But the Council?" Tren sighed. "I don't think anything can make them listen. Are they right? I just can't believe that when I have to hold Zana through the night because the Mandalorians attacked another world and she absorbed more pain, more death." His voice betrayed his frustration, and his sorrow.

Serena, Zana, Tren, and Galen had recently come to an agreement. They needed to address the Jedi Council on Coruscant and make them see reason. The Jedi Order was charged with the duty to protect the Republic, something for which the Republic had been pleading for months. Master Kavar agreed that, if they were sure about their true course, they must go before the Council and plead their case. Master Kae, Serena's former teacher, agreed, and it was she that suggested the men speak to the Council with the girls to back them up. Galen had hidden his smile when Serena said this. He was sure she could still beat him at any test of physical or mental prowess. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The caffa was good and exactly what Galen needed to help him sleep. He locked the chamber door and crawled into bed with Serena, kissing her head out of habit and immediately regretting it. They weren't exactly back on those terms yet and, _It's likely we never will be again._ No sooner had the thought filtered through his mind, than Serena had rolled over to face him and pulled him down to kiss her. She pressed her lips to his, imploring, begging forgiveness, and she received it, in his gentle kiss. A weight removed, they both drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken by...

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_Serena and Zana, flying low over the city-planet of Taris, but none of it's 'scrapers were more than two stories high. The screams radiated off of the planet like a slash across their minds…_

The Stereb cities of Serroco were turned to glass before their eyes as a series of planet-killers detonated...

A new planet rose into view: Telos IV. The planet was destroyed, a wasteland of broken mountains and flash boiled seas. More destruction, more screams, more misery...

The Jedi Academy on Dantooine was no more. A pile of rubble existed instead of the enclave...

The Xoxin field of Eres III in flames, a fiery orb in the expanse of space...

The girls walked across a field of dead Republic soldiers, dead Mandalorians, dead farmers, dead children. The faces kept changing, but it didn't matter. They were all dead, and there was nothing either girl could do to save them.

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**Three days later…**

Galen held Serena as she shook. She kept sobbing and shaking and trying not to scream. The only thing he knew to do was hold her, and that seemed to be what she needed. It was five hours before time to depart for Coruscant, and he would be lucky to get two hours of sleep.

They'd had the same dream for the three nights leading up to the meeting. If only the girls could _show _their visions to the Council! It was so real to Serena and Zana that they were both convinced it was a Force premonition and not a regular dream. These places still existed, obviously, so it was possible, but true premonitions were rare. Taris was already occupied, but the others had yet to be touched by the Mandalorians. Master Kavar wasn't sure and suggested mentioning it to the Council, just in case.

Serena had fallen silent, even the racking sobs had subsided, and when Galen looked down at her, he found her looking up at his face. It only took a moment for him to realize what that look in her eye meant. He tentatively touched her cheek and she responded by leaning her head into his hand. He bent his head to kiss her and she raised her lips to meet his. That was certainly the most he expected...in fact, he had no expectations of her, at all--but she apparently expected more of _him_. He felt her hand at his shirt, lifting it; then, at his belt, making quick work of the buckle. He grabbed her hand, confused; but, when he looked back at her face, she looked so beautiful, so content...and happier than she had in ages.

"Ser--"

"Don't." Her fingers barely grazed his cheek. "Just enjoy it, okay? I want you so badly, Galen. I can't wait for you any longer--"

He cut her off by kissing her, and he put his entire being into that kiss. He didn't know what kind of relationship they had, but at that moment he didn't care. _After all of this time...since the temple...she was waiting on __**me**_

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**Meeting of the Jedi High Council, Coruscant**

The Council hall was silent as Galen Malak made his way to the center of the chamber. "Knight Malak, please explain why you, Knight Revan, Knight Dorn, and Padawan Dex have come before this Council." Master Vash smiled and Galen hoped that was a good sign.

"Of course. We are here to represent the interests of the Republic and all of the innocent people who are dying in the war against the Mandalorians."

She squinted at him. "Knight Malak, you _are_ aware that this Council has already adopted a policy regarding the war and the Republic's request has previously been considered?"

"Yes, Master Vash. I may have new evidence that this war will cause further destruction than anyone can imagine. Jedi are having Force premonitions. Telos, Serroco, Taris, Eres III...Dantooine...they will fall. Many others will do the same, either in the fiery nova of a planet-killer or the slow death of a Basilisk war droid invasion. We can prevent this. Jedi are charged with protecting the innocent and bringing light to the galaxy. We keep the darkness at bay, and we request the opportunity to do so now." He cleared his throat. "However, we defer, of course, to the wisdom of the Council. The choice is yours." Serena had written the speech and, somehow, Galen had managed it.

Master Ell examined Galen, "Knight Malak, you would die to preserve the Republic and prevent these tragedies?"

"Yes. I am without doubt and fear." It was a studious Jedi answer, but Galen was sure that it was true.

"And your friends?"

"Master, I prefer to let them speak for themselves." Zez-Kai Ell nodded and Serena stepped to the center of the chamber.

"Masters, I have a question for you, if I may: Why are there Jedi? What is the purpose of our training if we are having lightsaber duels while whole planets die? I would die to preserve the lives of those people, whom I see in my visions each night. I have walked the surface of the planets my companion mentioned. In my Force visions. The dead go on for miles and there is nothing I can do to bring them back. I prefer pragmatic action. As a Jedi, I am above personal concern. I am not afraid to rejoin the stream of life that is the Force, but I am bound to defend the suffering innocents." Serena noted that a few eyebrows rose and considered that she might have been a little arrogant--It couldn't be helped, now.

Zana spoke. "Masters, I am but a padawan, I know. But even I would be willing to die for these people. It is not a choice I make lightly, but if war is the best use of my skills and it preserves the lives of others, yes, I would die for them." A murmured wave traveled around the room. Zana didn't hear what they said, but they didn't seem happy to see her. Master Kavar was watching her with a mixed look of admiration and sadness. Zana directed a small smile at him, but only his eyes returned it.

Tren stepped into the center of the room, to make his case for Alderaan. "Council members, I come here on behalf of myself, as a Jedi willing to risk my life in service to the Light, and those innocent lives being destroyed by the Mandalorians as they spread across the galaxy. However, I also come here as a representative of the planet Alderaan, my future post and a key member of the Core worlds. Many planetary heads have expressed concern over the situation, not just Alderaan. Corellia, Deralia, Manaan--they are all asking why the Jedi have failed to intervene. I find myself wondering the same thing. We are supposed to support the Republic and protect its ideals because they are just and fair. My companions and I seek to do that. We request that you reexamine this issue. Thank you for hearing our case. We want to aid the Republic, but we seek your wisdom and your insight in this matter. We understand that the final decision belongs to the Council."

_Tren is brilliant!_ You would never know from his slaggish speech patterns that he could be so eloquent when the occasion arose. Galen glanced around the room and realized the Council didn't seem to agree with him. Their expressions were almost uniformly sour.

Master Kavar looked hopeful, at least, but it was an empty smile he gave the friends. Standing, he dismissed them, "Knights Malak, Revan, and Dorn, Padawan Dex, thank you for bringing your issue to this council. It is our responsibility to protect the Republic and the Order and you may trust that we shall find an amiable solution for all." The four friends filed out to the corridor and decided to travel straight back to Dantooine. Nothing was being accomplished here. The trip had been a waste of time.

As they left, Zana spoke to the silent thought in each of them, "I just thought there would be more to it. They didn't really want to hear what we had to say. They had already decided before we arrived."

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**Training Room, Dantooine Jedi Enclave. **

"Please come in and sit down." She waited while the students complied. "I see that some of you are fellow knights and some of you are padawans. I welcome you all here and I hope that we can use this as an opportunity to learn from one another." Serena flashed them a warm smile, lightening the mood in the room. Tren walked up to Serena, raised his hand, and suddenly she was encased in a glowing stasis field, unable to move even to blink. The students gasped. _Gah! I hate this part...'there is no emotion, there is peace; there is no ignorance, there is knowledge'..._ The shield wore off and Serena dropped to the ground. She smiled at the students again as she stood. "This is my friend Tren. You may call him that, or Knight Dorn if you feel so inclined. He will be teaching you how to defend yourself against various forms of real attack using the Force. For those already aware of these techniques, this will be an opportunity to practice and get comfortable using them on reflex." Serena sat cross-legged on the ground in front of her "students."

Tren addressed the class, "Serena, on the other hand will be teaching you various lightsaber maneuvers. Not dueling forms, mind you, but practical techniques for disarming and confusing your opponent. You may address her as Knight Revan, if you think that's appropriate, but this is an unofficial class. We are just trying to be helpful. With the Mandalorians creeping closer each day, it may be that the Council will call upon Jedi to defend the Republic very soon. We prefer to be prepared. Thank you all for coming, and remember, we'll be here every night this week to practice." He looked out over the group and realized that he knew many of them: Vedric and Samosh had come, Talvan Esan, Xaset Tarep, Cariaga Si, others he recognized but didn't know their names. Most of their age group was in attendance. Tren sighed and rubbed both hands over his face. _One week since we spoke to the Council...I wonder how long Serena will wait..._

The lessons continued for two hours and every student made vast improvement in both areas. When the students were dismissed, Serena and Tren joined their friends in the cafe to see what they had found in the archives. "Well, its a map. A _star map_, literally, but it is missing information. It appears that someone damaged it on purpose. We searched the archives and there aren't any references to it, so I am…perplexed. I mean, the only thing I can think of is to visit each of the worlds listed to see if they can provide any answers, but that would take months. I think we need to put this off for a while. I did find out some information about the Mandalorians, though." Galen downloaded something into Serena's datapad from his own. "They follow a pattern of spread. See this point here?" He poked a finger at her datapad. "That planet is called Mandalore, it's where the Mandalorians are spreading from, if you plot the destruction on a chart. That is really no surprise, of course, because that is their home planet; however, it's near this other planet..." He poked the screen again. "It is called Malachor V. For some reason, the Mandalorians appear to hold it sacred. They don't go there..."

Serena's instincts took over. "Why?"

"I don't know. It did not seem like the Mandalorians knew, either. I gleaned this bit of information from the holos of...well...interrogations of Mandalorian prisoners from the Sith War." A shadow passed over all four faces. It wasn't a war that was spoken of, much less in a cafe full of people. Galen kept his voice low. "Did you know Master Kavar was a general during that war? He called the charge on Yavin, leading thousands of Jedi into battle."

"He's mentioned it. Vaguely." They all looked at Zana. "Well, he doesn't like to talk about it."

"Zana, if you get a chance, can you please ask him about it? Do it as kindly as you can, but we need that information. Why is that planet taboo? It's an unknown, and I don't like the idea of going into battle with _any_ unknowns."

Galen squinted at her. "Into battle? Serena, what are you talking about? Do you really think the Council will ever approve--"

"No, I don't! And I can only sit here for so long, watching the fleet get slaughtered when there are obvious tactical measures available to them. They're losing! And it's because we're not there to help." A few of the cafe patrons looked her direction. Lowering her tone, Serena confided in her friends, at long last, "I don't plan to wait forever for the Council to make a decision. I am going to defend the Republic, and I'm going to take anyone with me who's willing. How many more soldiers need to die before the Council change their minds? Too many...Besides, I don't think they ever will."

"But, Serena, to defy the Council...thinking that you..._you_...alone could make a difference, that you are better equipped to make this decision seems...terribly arrogant and--"

"Zana, we can all make a difference. Why do you think we're teaching the other students about fighting and defense?"

Zana shot Tren an angry glare. "You were in on this? Were you guys planning on enlightening us with this information?"

"Consider yourself enlightened. Listen, Zana, your visions are getting worse, which means mine are getting worse." Serena already felt like a leader, rallying the troops. It spurred her to say what needed to be said, "We can't go on like this until the Mandalorians arrive to destroy us. And we both saw it, didn't we? The destruction of Dantooine, all of those other places around the galaxy. We can prevent that, but we need to act soon." Zana reluctantly nodded in agreement.

Galen grabbed Serena's hand, immediately dropping it again when he remembered where he was. He sighed heavily. "I agree that waiting is folly; the archives contain proof of this...and you know that I will follow you."

The four friends agreed that the time was coming, but for now they should continue teaching. Zana would ply Master Kavar, gently, for information regarding Malachor V. Serena would continue studying tactics with him. Tren would keep up recruitment and teaching. And Galen would continue his research in the archives for anything useful to their cause. Serena felt guilty using Master Kavar, when he'd been so willing to help, but they were running out of time--and so was the Republic.


	6. Part 6

**Six weeks after **_**For the Republic: Part 5**_

Serena slept with her knees pulled up high against her chest; the blankets had fallen to the floor hours ago. The only noise in the room was Galen's breathing. When she had left him, alone and scared in the atrium of the academy, Galen hadn't known what to do. For days, he had wandered, brooding, replaying that night in the temple in his head. As he saw it, there was a choice to be made: leave her alone or watch over her even if she hated him. Choosing the later had been the harder path.

The night that he summoned the nerve to speak to her about it, they'd fought. Something between them was different...everything was different--and he'd told her as much:

_"Serena, I am not sure what happened, but something has changed. _We_ have changed. We need to accept it and work past it. The things we did--"_

"Don't say it! Do-not-say-it, Galen Malak!" She spat his name out as one would acid. Or poison.

"Wait, don't say what? That I am sorry for what I did to you? That I am so sorry I hurt you?" He fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Stop it! Leave me alone! Get out, Galen! Get out of my fracking room and my Force-damned life!"

"serena..." It was a whisper; a plea for her to look at him. "Serena, I ca--"

"NO!" He felt the crack of his head hitting the stone wall before he even realized she'd raised her hand. "Get out, now."

Fighting vertigo, he regained his feet and turned to leave, but decided to say what he'd come to say. He didn't turn to face her. "I know that you and I are simply not meant to be. I know it, but that does not change the fact that I cannot get you out of my head. There is no peace without you. If you don't want me anymore, I understand; but, I still want to help you and be near you..." He trailed off, trying to imagine how to approach the subject. "I...I know that you are still picking up Zana's Force visions and...and...I worry about you. I think you need someone to watch over you, as Tren watches Zana. Someone to be around should something happen to you." He swallowed and wondered if she was looking at him now. "Serena, let me be that person. You may not want me anymore, but please let me help you?" Galen closed his eyes. Blast! My head!_ She'd been angry at him, alright. _She used the Force against me in anger..._ He shuddered._

"OK." It was a tiny reply, quiet and unsure.

He turned to look at her, giddy with the sudden release of the pressure he'd be carrying in his chest for days. "Okay? You will not regret it. I'm sorry for everything, but I will make it up to you, I promise!"

"Oh, Galen..." She still sounded small and broken. "It wasn't your fault. I heard the dark side call my name. It called me by my last name, it called me 'Revan', and promised me power. It promised me...you...that I could at last be with you, properly, without constantly needing to deny myself the one thing I want. I know why the Jedi Code forbids relationships like ours: My feelings for you are a weakness, a cut inside me. The dark side was attracted to the 'cut' like a firaxan to blood. I know I'm not being very persuasive, but you have to believe it was the temple, Galen, not you. If you would watch over me, I...I would be grateful. Just...just don't blame yourself anymore." She ran her hands over her face, as if trying to wipe away the memory. "I held you to the wall until the dark energy had time to infiltrate your mind. There were voices in the temple, and they said that I could make you happy, that I should try to make you happy. And you _**looked**__ happy...__**I**__ was happy...But when we came out of the temple...I realized what I'd done...And the pain..." She looked ready to collapse, but Galen got an arm under her and moved her to the bunk. His own compromised state forgotten, they lay in her bed together and fell asleep. _

And now, almost a month later, Galen was still her guardian. He watched her sleep, most nights, and was just thankful that she had let him back into her life. They were nearly back to some semblance of normalcy: joking and talking together. The wounds left behind by their temple excursion had nearly healed…all of them. In the darkness, there was a noise, a click in the corridor indicating that Tren had come out of Zana's room. A soft knock on the chamber door confirmed this.

"Galen, hey, wanna get some caffa? I know it's early--no sun yet--but c'mon. The girls are fine. They're sleepin' like babies." Tren started calling Serena and Zana "the girls" when Galen had taken up temporary residence as Serena's guard. _Why don't the masters do anything to stop us? It isn't as if they are blind to what we're doing. Is that possible?_ Tren didn't like the idea of sneaking around; it had been unintentional. Unfortunately, intentions only went so far with the Jedi Order.

"Do you even know anything about babies, Tren? I had a younger brother, on Telos, before they brought me here. He NEVER slept soundly..." The two chuckled as they walked down the corridor. "In fact, he always woke up screaming, as I recall. He was always disturbing the tribe."

"Oh, then perhaps my description was accurate, after all?" Tren's smile was contagious, and soon Galen's mood had been considerably improved. That is, until he remembered that there had been something he wanted to ask Tren.

"Hey, did Kavar get us an audience? I never got a chance to ask Serena."

"Yes, we meet with the Council on Coruscant in three days. Hope that's enough time to prepare. The girls have this crazy idea that the Council will listen to _us_ better because we're men. But Zana's words coming out of my mouth?"

"Serena's out of mine? It is probably hopeless, but we can only try. The girls are right, too many innocent lives are at stake. Now that the Mandalorians have entered Core Republic space, the Council should be sending us to fight. Still, they hesitate, _consider_, debate." Galen shook his head.

"The people of Alderaan have asked me to speak to the Council on their behalf, as well. Since I am going to be their ambassador soon--well, if things ever settle down, anyway--they count on me to be their voice to the Council. They've come to trust me and, more importantly, my motives. From where I stand, that's valuable. But the Council?" Tren sighed. "I don't think anything can make them listen. Are they right? I just can't believe that when I have to hold Zana through the night because the Mandalorians attacked another world and she absorbed more pain, more death." His voice betrayed his frustration, and his sorrow.

Serena, Zana, Tren, and Galen had recently come to an agreement. They needed to address the Jedi Council on Coruscant and make them see reason. The Jedi Order was charged with the duty to protect the Republic, something for which the Republic had been pleading for months. Master Kavar agreed that, if they were sure about their true course, they must go before the Council and plead their case. Master Kae, Serena's former teacher, agreed, and it was she that suggested the men speak to the Council with the girls to back them up. Galen had hidden his smile when Serena said this. He was sure she could still beat him at any test of physical or mental prowess. 

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The caffa was good and exactly what Galen needed to help him sleep. He locked the chamber door and crawled into bed with Serena, kissing her head out of habit and immediately regretting it. They weren't exactly back on those terms yet and, _It's likely we never will be again._ No sooner had the thought filtered through his mind, than Serena had rolled over to face him and pulled him down to kiss her. She pressed her lips to his, imploring, begging forgiveness, and she received it, in his gentle kiss. A weight removed, they both drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken by...

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_Serena and Zana, flying low over the city-planet of Taris, but none of it's 'scrapers were more than two stories high. The screams radiated off of the planet like a slash across their minds…_

The Stereb cities of Serroco were turned to glass before their eyes as a series of planet-killers detonated...

A new planet rose into view: Telos IV. The planet was destroyed, a wasteland of broken mountains and flash boiled seas. More destruction, more screams, more misery...

The Jedi Academy on Dantooine was no more. A pile of rubble existed instead of the enclave...

The Xoxin field of Eres III in flames, a fiery orb in the expanse of space...

The girls walked across a field of dead Republic soldiers, dead Mandalorians, dead farmers, dead children. The faces kept changing, but it didn't matter. They were all dead, and there was nothing either girl could do to save them.

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**Three days later…**

Galen held Serena as she shook. She kept sobbing and shaking and trying not to scream. The only thing he knew to do was hold her, and that seemed to be what she needed. It was five hours before time to depart for Coruscant, and he would be lucky to get two hours of sleep.

They'd had the same dream for the three nights leading up to the meeting. If only the girls could _show _their visions to the Council! It was so real to Serena and Zana that they were both convinced it was a Force premonition and not a regular dream. These places still existed, obviously, so it was possible, but true premonitions were rare. Taris was already occupied, but the others had yet to be touched by the Mandalorians. Master Kavar wasn't sure and suggested mentioning it to the Council, just in case. 

Serena had fallen silent, even the racking sobs had subsided, and when Galen looked down at her, he found her looking up at his face. It only took a moment for him to realize what that look in her eye meant. He tentatively touched her cheek and she responded by leaning her head into his hand. He bent his head to kiss her and she raised her lips to meet his. That was certainly the most he expected...in fact, he had no expectations of her, at all--but she apparently expected more of _him_. He felt her hand at his shirt, lifting it; then, at his belt, making quick work of the buckle. He grabbed her hand, confused; but, when he looked back at her face, she looked so beautiful, so content...and happier than she had in ages.

"Ser--"

"Don't." Her fingers barely grazed his cheek. "Just enjoy it, okay? I want you so badly, Galen. I can't wait for you any longer--"

He cut her off by kissing her, and he put his entire being into that kiss. He didn't know what kind of relationship they had, but at that moment he didn't care. _After all of this time...since the temple...she was waiting on __**me**_

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**Meeting of the Jedi High Council, Coruscant**

The Council hall was silent as Galen Malak made his way to the center of the chamber. "Knight Malak, please explain why you, Knight Revan, Knight Dorn, and Padawan Dex have come before this Council." Master Vash smiled and Galen hoped that was a good sign.

"Of course. We are here to represent the interests of the Republic and all of the innocent people who are dying in the war against the Mandalorians."

She squinted at him. "Knight Malak, you _are_ aware that this Council has already adopted a policy regarding the war and the Republic's request has previously been considered?"

"Yes, Master Vash. I may have new evidence that this war will cause further destruction than anyone can imagine. Jedi are having Force premonitions. Telos, Serroco, Taris, Eres III...Dantooine...they will fall. Many others will do the same, either in the fiery nova of a planet-killer or the slow death of a Basilisk war droid invasion. We can prevent this. Jedi are charged with protecting the innocent and bringing light to the galaxy. We keep the darkness at bay, and we request the opportunity to do so now." He cleared his throat. "However, we defer, of course, to the wisdom of the Council. The choice is yours." Serena had written the speech and, somehow, Galen had managed it.

Master Ell examined Galen, "Knight Malak, you would die to preserve the Republic and prevent these tragedies?"

"Yes. I am without doubt and fear." It was a studious Jedi answer, but Galen was sure that it was true.

"And your friends?"

"Master, I prefer to let them speak for themselves." Zez-Kai Ell nodded and Serena stepped to the center of the chamber.

"Masters, I have a question for you, if I may: Why are there Jedi? What is the purpose of our training if we are having lightsaber duels while whole planets die? I would die to preserve the lives of those people, whom I see in my visions each night. I have walked the surface of the planets my companion mentioned. In my Force visions. The dead go on for miles and there is nothing I can do to bring them back. I prefer pragmatic action. As a Jedi, I am above personal concern. I am not afraid to rejoin the stream of life that is the Force, but I am bound to defend the suffering innocents." Serena noted that a few eyebrows rose and considered that she might have been a little arrogant--It couldn't be helped, now.

Zana spoke. "Masters, I am but a padawan, I know. But even I would be willing to die for these people. It is not a choice I make lightly, but if war is the best use of my skills and it preserves the lives of others, yes, I would die for them." A murmured wave traveled around the room. Zana didn't hear what they said, but they didn't seem happy to see her. Master Kavar was watching her with a mixed look of admiration and sadness. Zana directed a small smile at him, but only his eyes returned it.

Tren stepped into the center of the room, to make his case for Alderaan. "Council members, I come here on behalf of myself, as a Jedi willing to risk my life in service to the Light, and those innocent lives being destroyed by the Mandalorians as they spread across the galaxy. However, I also come here as a representative of the planet Alderaan, my future post and a key member of the Core worlds. Many planetary heads have expressed concern over the situation, not just Alderaan. Corellia, Deralia, Manaan--they are all asking why the Jedi have failed to intervene. I find myself wondering the same thing. We are supposed to support the Republic and protect its ideals because they are just and fair. My companions and I seek to do that. We request that you reexamine this issue. Thank you for hearing our case. We want to aid the Republic, but we seek your wisdom and your insight in this matter. We understand that the final decision belongs to the Council."

_Tren is brilliant!_ You would never know from his slaggish speech patterns that he could be so eloquent when the occasion arose. Galen glanced around the room and realized the Council didn't seem to agree with him. Their expressions were almost uniformly sour.

Master Kavar looked hopeful, at least, but it was an empty smile he gave the friends. Standing, he dismissed them, "Knights Malak, Revan, and Dorn, Padawan Dex, thank you for bringing your issue to this council. It is our responsibility to protect the Republic and the Order and you may trust that we shall find an amiable solution for all." The four friends filed out to the corridor and decided to travel straight back to Dantooine. Nothing was being accomplished here. The trip had been a waste of time.

As they left, Zana spoke to the silent thought in each of them, "I just thought there would be more to it. They didn't really want to hear what we had to say. They had already decided before we arrived."

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**Training Room, Dantooine Jedi Enclave. **

"Please come in and sit down." She waited while the students complied. "I see that some of you are fellow knights and some of you are padawans. I welcome you all here and I hope that we can use this as an opportunity to learn from one another." Serena flashed them a warm smile, lightening the mood in the room. Tren walked up to Serena, raised his hand, and suddenly she was encased in a glowing stasis field, unable to move even to blink. The students gasped. _Gah! I hate this part...'there is no emotion, there is peace; there is no ignorance, there is knowledge'..._ The shield wore off and Serena dropped to the ground. She smiled at the students again as she stood. "This is my friend Tren. You may call him that, or Knight Dorn if you feel so inclined. He will be teaching you how to defend yourself against various forms of real attack using the Force. For those already aware of these techniques, this will be an opportunity to practice and get comfortable using them on reflex." Serena sat cross-legged on the ground in front of her "students."

Tren addressed the class, "Serena, on the other hand will be teaching you various lightsaber maneuvers. Not dueling forms, mind you, but practical techniques for disarming and confusing your opponent. You may address her as Knight Revan, if you think that's appropriate, but this is an unofficial class. We are just trying to be helpful. With the Mandalorians creeping closer each day, it may be that the Council will call upon Jedi to defend the Republic very soon. We prefer to be prepared. Thank you all for coming, and remember, we'll be here every night this week to practice." He looked out over the group and realized that he knew many of them: Vedric and Samosh had come, Talvan Esan, Xaset Tarep, Cariaga Si, others he recognized but didn't know their names. Most of their age group was in attendance. Tren sighed and rubbed both hands over his face. _One week since we spoke to the Council...I wonder how long Serena will wait..._

The lessons continued for two hours and every student made vast improvement in both areas. When the students were dismissed, Serena and Tren joined their friends in the cafe to see what they had found in the archives. "Well, its a map. A _star map_, literally, but it is missing information. It appears that someone damaged it on purpose. We searched the archives and there aren't any references to it, so I am…perplexed. I mean, the only thing I can think of is to visit each of the worlds listed to see if they can provide any answers, but that would take months. I think we need to put this off for a while. I did find out some information about the Mandalorians, though." Galen downloaded something into Serena's datapad from his own. "They follow a pattern of spread. See this point here?" He poked a finger at her datapad. "That planet is called Mandalore, it's where the Mandalorians are spreading from, if you plot the destruction on a chart. That is really no surprise, of course, because that is their home planet; however, it's near this other planet..." He poked the screen again. "It is called Malachor V. For some reason, the Mandalorians appear to hold it sacred. They don't go there..."

Serena's instincts took over. "Why?"

"I don't know. It did not seem like the Mandalorians knew, either. I gleaned this bit of information from the holos of...well...interrogations of Mandalorian prisoners from the Sith War." A shadow passed over all four faces. It wasn't a war that was spoken of, much less in a cafe full of people. Galen kept his voice low. "Did you know Master Kavar was a general during that war? He called the charge on Yavin, leading thousands of Jedi into battle."

"He's mentioned it. Vaguely." They all looked at Zana. "Well, he doesn't like to talk about it."

"Zana, if you get a chance, can you please ask him about it? Do it as kindly as you can, but we need that information. Why is that planet taboo? It's an unknown, and I don't like the idea of going into battle with _any_ unknowns."

Galen squinted at her. "Into battle? Serena, what are you talking about? Do you really think the Council will ever approve--"

"No, I don't! And I can only sit here for so long, watching the fleet get slaughtered when there are obvious tactical measures available to them. They're losing! And it's because we're not there to help." A few of the cafe patrons looked her direction. Lowering her tone, Serena confided in her friends, at long last, "I don't plan to wait forever for the Council to make a decision. I am going to defend the Republic, and I'm going to take anyone with me who's willing. How many more soldiers need to die before the Council change their minds? Too many...Besides, I don't think they ever will."

"But, Serena, to defy the Council...thinking that you..._you_...alone could make a difference, that you are better equipped to make this decision seems...terribly arrogant and--"

"Zana, we can all make a difference. Why do you think we're teaching the other students about fighting and defense?"

Zana shot Tren an angry glare. "You were in on this? Were you guys planning on enlightening us with this information?"

"Consider yourself enlightened. Listen, Zana, your visions are getting worse, which means mine are getting worse." Serena already felt like a leader, rallying the troops. It spurred her to say what needed to be said, "We can't go on like this until the Mandalorians arrive to destroy us. And we both saw it, didn't we? The destruction of Dantooine, all of those other places around the galaxy. We can prevent that, but we need to act soon." Zana reluctantly nodded in agreement.

Galen grabbed Serena's hand, immediately dropping it again when he remembered where he was. He sighed heavily. "I agree that waiting is folly; the archives contain proof of this...and you know that I will follow you."

The four friends agreed that the time was coming, but for now they should continue teaching. Zana would ply Master Kavar, gently, for information regarding Malachor V. Serena would continue studying tactics with him. Tren would keep up recruitment and teaching. And Galen would continue his research in the archives for anything useful to their cause. Serena felt guilty using Master Kavar, when he'd been so willing to help, but they were running out of time--and so was the Republic.


	7. Part 7

**Two weeks after **_**For the Republic: Part 6**_

The sun had just begun its morning ascent. Yellow-orange rays warmed the room and played along his temple, his jaw line, his cheek. Serena had been watching his chest rise and fall in the gray pre-dawn, but now there was no time. The other Jedi would be waking soon. She climbed over him and let her feet find the cold stone floor. Peeking her head out the door and extending her Force-sense, Serena deemed it clear and ran to her own chambers at the end of the corridor. 

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"Knight Revan."

Serena's head jerked up at the sound of her name.

"Knight Revan, is something bothering you? You seem...distracted. Rather unusual, I think." Master Kae looked somewhat agitated.

Serena feigned innocence, and proceeded, casually, "Master, I was thinking about the Mandalorian threat."

"Again, Serena?"

"I know the Council doesn't want to get involved, would prefer to watch and wait. But--" _--I don't..._

Master Kae sighed, dismissing any talk on the topic of war. "We have discussed this many times. The Council has even allowed you and your friends to voice your concerns--" Something in her former master's voice...She decided it was worth the risk.

"Master, we can _feel_ them. Each life on each planet they extinguish, the agony. Zana and I feel the triumph in each Mandalorian heart. I've seen it in my dreams and-"

"How long have you two been having these dreams?" There was an edge in Master Kae's voice.

"Two months." She tried to sound meek.

The Master Jedi grimaced. "And you said nothing?"

"Well, Master Kavar knows, and we told the Council when we went to Coruscant, but they dismissed them...and us. They didn't take us seriously."

Suddenly distracted, Kae dismissed her, "Knight Revan, your training with me will be...independent for the day. I have been summoned to the Council, in any case, and will be detained for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. We _will_ follow-up on this later." She appraised Serena momentarily before saying, "Oh, and Revan. Please sleep in your _own_ chambers tonight...And have Knight Malak do the same."

With a swish of her robes, Master Kae left the room and Serena was alone with her thoughts. She felt anger flare-up at the words, but she quickly suppressed it. _There is no emotion, there is peace._ That Master Kae knew where she slept was the least of her worries. Her thoughts were filled with the images of war and frustration at the Jedi Council. People were being slaughtered while she was left to plan and strategize in the slim hope that the Council would allow them to help in the near future. And she felt each death through Zana, and Zana's unique connection to the Force. _How long can I stand to wait?_ A knock at the meeting room door followed by footsteps told her Galen had found her. She looked up at him and smiled a warm greeting as he bent down to kiss her forehead.

She followed him back to his chamber, tired, confused. They sat down to meditate, but Serena couldn't focus. She climbed into Galen's lap and lounged on the cold floor, leaning against the wall and each other.

"Serena, what is wrong? You are brooding. You…you remind me of, well, me before I met you. That is not an emptiness that I want to see in your eyes."

She sighed. "You don't want to know. In fact, you already know. There's no use talking about it…again."

"If it will help you, please speak your mind."

"Fine. I know they're never going to make a decision to help the Republic. There, see? It's the same thought I've been having for the last three weeks. Since our audience."

"They must eventually."

"No! They don't understand the scope of what is happening. The Republic has begged the Council for help again, and again they've refused! Are they waiting for the Mandalorian armies to attack Coruscant? Is that what's required for them to take action? If so, I want an audience with Mandalore. We need to have a little chat about his targets…" Galen was taken aback. Serena reached up and stroked his cheek, tracing his jaw line, then sighed.

"I'm no longer in control, Galen. It's impossible to meditate, I get distracted. Teaching the lightsaber classes is starting to wear on my patience and my nerves. And I feel so useless stuck on Dantooine, unable to do anything about it!" Serena leaned into his arms, shaking with frustration. He wasn't sure how to help her; for Galen, it had become a struggle to stay focused amidst the emotions Serena exuded. She let down her walls with him, and every time he was around her, Galen felt his own stony facade crack. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head as she sobbed into his robes and, for the first time, he was certain that he _loved _her. She sat up and looked at him peculiarly, wiping away tears, and then her face broke into a wide grin, "I love you, too!"

Sudden footsteps in the corridor forced the pair to quickly separate as Master Vrook entered the chamber without knocking. He wore a sour grimace and eyed them each before speaking, "Knight Malak, Knight Revan. You are summoned before the Council." It took them a moment to realize he meant the council housed in the enclave. They looked at one another, then at Vrook. "Separately. Knight Malak, come with me." Galen chanced one final glance at Serena before steeling his mind and emotions to a perfect Jedi calm. He stood and followed Master Vrook.

Serena wiped her hands over her face. She was alone again, and she found herself wondering "why." Why were the Mandalorians killing so many people? Why had they re-emerged? Why was she finding it so hard to maintain the required peace and detachment of a Jedi? Why could Zana feel those deaths, so very far away? She thought on Malchor V and what might make it forbidden? She decided to meditate to pass the time and calm her mind before meeting the Council; but, her mind started to wander. Her inner vision swirled with the images of Mandalorian armies, crushing a unit of Republic soldiers. They screamed a battle cry: "For the Republic!" So much sorrow and hatred. With closed eyes, she touched the Force and reached out to Galen.

_**Anger. Pure and unadulterated anger. He was seething with it, ready to explode with it. And something else: love. The two emotions co-mingled in his mind as Galen tried to hold them back with a wall of disciplined control.**_

Returning from the Council, he found Serena on the floor of his bed chamber. She had been unconscious for hours. 

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Galen's Audience, Council Chambers, Dantooine**

Vrook watched Galen as Master Vandar spoke. They were questioning him about Serena. Galen felt her probing his mind; she wasn't helping the situation. The Council informed him that they knew of the relationship between the two young Jedi. They would be granted the opportunity to end the relationship voluntarily, but it must be done immediately. To delay would only increase the difficulty of the situation. Galen felt the anger begin within his chest; it grew and pulsed with each word spoken by the Master Jedi, until he felt near explosion. _After all we've been through..._ He felt Serena disengage, violently, and it drained the emotion from his mind, bringing him to his senses--he couldn't believe what he'd been feeling and how quickly it had grown!

They hadn't forbidden them from seeing each other, after all. They weren't allowed to be lovers, but they couldn't stop him from loving her. _He_ couldn't stop it, either. _There is no emotion, there is peace._ He tried to choke down the rest of his thoughts, knowing they betrayed him to the sensitive Jedi in the room. _Why didn't they notice earlier? What about Tren and Zana?_

"Knight Malak, you are free to go."

As he walked through the corridors, Galen paid little mind to whom he passed or where he was going. _There is no passion; there is serenity._ **But there **_**was**_** passion, and her name was Serena.**

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_The attack came in the night, as these things often do, and no one was prepared. The screaming people, burning flesh, too many staring faces unable to cry. So many just lay where they fell, curled for protection: shock. Buildings smoked, collapsed in on themselves, becoming tombs. And the basilisk war mounts screamed toward the surface...toward glory...A man in full armor stepped out of the fallen war droid. He ran a hand through his nearly black hair and replaced his helmet...He screamed something about "Mandalore" and "Clan Ordo" and began firing his carbine...She was wandering the paths they took, leaving their trail of dead and dying...A child's crumpled form lay, discarded, in the corner of a courtyard...Black smoke issued from charred homes...bodies...Every pane of glass was shattered, every door unhinged...On the road, between blocks of broken houses, two dirty balls of robes...She approached, preparing to pass them up, not to look at another corpse...He was alive...He was holding a woman, stroking the blood-caked hair, caressing the cold, dead cheek...She paused, mesmerized by such devotion...'I loved you...I was here...followed you...this wasn't supposed to happen'...Galen looked up at her, his face smudged with blood...'it could have been prevented'...the face of the woman revealed, she staggered back, grew dizzy, fell, fell..._

_...it could have been prevented..._ These were the last words Serena heard before she awoke, dripping with sweat and shaking, her knees clasped to her chest. _Why am I in bed?_ In the moments that followed, a second thought crossed her mind: _Galen_. She tripped out of bed and into the corridor, unconcerned as to who might see her thin night shift or her destination. When she reached his chambers, her quiet knock immediately brought him to the door.

"Serena, what is wrong? You are trembling! Here, sit down." He guided her gently to the sofa, grabbing a blanket from his bunk and wrapping her in it along the way. "I was worried. You were unconscious when I returned to my chambers. Master Kae advised that I take you to your bed…to rest. She refused to let me stay with you…" Serena couldn't find the words. "Do you want me to get Zana?" She shook her head, no. As in times past, Galen wrapped his arms around her, stroked her hair, and occasionally whispered comforting words into her ear. When she grew still, Galen thought she'd fallen asleep, but then she began to speak in a rich, even voice:

"It's time, Galen. The longer we delay, the more people they kill - the Republic is losing the war! The Republic WILL lose the war. I've had a Force vision--"

"Another of Zana's shared nightmares--"

"Listen to me! I've had a true _Force vision_, a warning, a premonition."

"Those are rare, Serena, you know that. And Masters--"

"So many lives can be saved if we just take action. Without the Jedi, the Republic will fall to the Mandalorians and we will die. We will _all_ die, including the Jedi! If we help them...it could all be prevented...but the Council's set in the rut of its path and won't vary the course."

She stood and paced, the blanket sliding down on one side, pulling the sleeve of her gown, to reveal tan skin and the delicate bones of her shoulder. Sometimes he forgot how truly fragile she could be. "All of the lives we could save. I can't go on feeling each one die and not do something about it. You know Zana and Tren will agree." Galen noticed occasional tears streaking her face. He stood and grabbed her, stopping the pacing. He wanted to shield her from all of it, but he'd sworn to follow her if she decided to join the war.

Serena turned in his arms to look up at him, and then rested her cheek on his bare chest. "Force, I love you, Galen--but I can't stay here and live like this. Hiding our feelings. Jumping at every sidelong glance from a master, every summons. It was easy when I could focus, but lately--" There was something she wasn't saying. He tried not to let his growing concern show and waited for her to continue.

She walked a few steps away and turned to face him. "Galen, I'm leaving. Not yet, but soon, and you can't follow me. I know you said you would, but..."

"What? You cannot do that! You don't know what you are saying! I am not staying here without you, there is nothing left for me here, without you."

"I know exactly what I'm saying; it's what I've been thinking for weeks, but I never gave it a voice. Now that I've said it, I know that it's right. I must do something to help the Republic, as we planned, but without you. If something happened to you, I'd--"

"I _will_ go with you. I can't let you do it alone, I can't let you...I need you, Serena. Me and Tren and Zana...the students we've been preparing to take with us; we're all prepared to follow you. Just give the word." He moved closer to her and she backed away.

"No." _...this wasn't supposed to happen..._ The vision of Galen, mortally wounded, lying next to her dead body beside the road made her shiver.

"Serena, I love you and I want to be with you, regardless of what the future may hold. I know it means getting expelled from the Order. It is unfortunate, but at least we will be free to love each other without shame or guilt. We could get married--" The words had only just left his mouth when his face flushed and he closed the gap between them. "Serena, I want you to marry me. I want to love you and make you happy for the rest of your life, and if that includes following you to war, leaving the Jedi Order...I am ready." He considered her expression, a strange mingling of doubt and acceptance.

"Serena, promise me...promise me that you will take me with you when you go. Promise me that you will marry me first, before we join the fleet. We could stop on Telos IV--did I tell you I was born to a tribe there?--and perform the ceremony, it is so beautiful by the sea...or Deralia, if you prefer..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say next, and began a thorough examination of his chamber floor. She hadn't reacted to what he said; she just stood there.

As he stared at the floor, Galen noticed a drip...another drip splashed against the stone. A sidelong glance at Serena revealed her renewed tears and the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. "Telos!"


	8. Part 8

**Three days after **_**For the Republic: Part 7**_

"Kavar...I...I have a question for you. I'm not sure I want to ask it, though."

Master Kavar sighed and looked out the window. He didn't want to look at Zana; he knew why she was there. "You know you can ask me anything." _Even the dagger-of-a-question poised at the edge of your mind._She was still resting her chin on crossed arms and leaning against his desk.

"Well, during...the war...did you ever hear anything about a planet called--"

"--Malachor V?" She had given up questioning his uncanny ability to guess her mind ages ago. Against his better judgment, which was usually the case, Master Kavar answered her question, "It's a Force-damned planet. Once green, the land turned brown, the trees twisted, and steel gray crags erupted from beneath the surface...there are no inhabitants, from all reports. The Mandalorians consider it off-limits, restricted. It seemed to..._scare_ them. As far as I know, no one really knows why, and _they_ wouldn't say if they did." He sighed, "I'm sorry that's all I can say, but it's all I know."

Zana smiled at him; at least he'd tried. "Padawan Dex," he scolded, "You know how this works. You ask your burning question, I answer whether I like it or not, and then you tell me why you want to know." He looked her directly in the eye. "So why?"

Her smile withered. "Uh...Kavar...okay." He'd never broken her confidence before, there was no reason to believe this would be any different. She sat up, leaving her hands on the desk. "Master Kavar. I'm sure that rumors have reached you concerning Serena...um, Knight Revan...well...th-they're true." Zana swallowed hard. "We'releavingtojointheRepublicfleet." The last part came out too fast, and she was already trembling, sure she had disappointed him. But when she looked up at his face, the corner of his mouth was quirked. His eyes were serious, but not hard.

"Zana..." He hesitated, then reached across the desk to touch the back of her hand with the tips of his fingers. She bit her bottom lip, realizing how much she would miss him. 

Reaching out, she traced the creases around his eyes and mouth.. "Master..." _He isn't as old as the others, but war has aged him beyond his years_. Her fingers trailed along his temple.

"That's what I worry about. What will happen to _you_...?" He closed his eyes as her hand came to rest on his cheek, leaning into it just slightly. Speaking slowly, he continued, "War does terrible things to a person. I understand your need to fight, I felt the same going after Kun. But, Zana, you are...so...special to me." _Special _had always been their code word for something more, the un-utterable feelings he had for her. He'd never come so close to expressing those feelings, but he was aware that saying it out loud...he would damn himself to follow Zana into battle, to follow her _anywhere_.

"Kavar...I..."

"Shh..."

So they sat in silence, her hand cupping his cheek, his fingertips just barely in contact with her skin--the most he could bear without giving in. 

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Zana knew she'd stayed with Kavar far too long; Serena wasn't going to be thrilled. She hurried through the corridors of the enclave, distracted by her thoughts, and bumped into a small boy. He looked to be around twelve-years-old. "Oh! Sorry, here, let's see..." She pulled him up off the ground and gathered his books for him. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes, Padawan Dex. Thank you." He made a small bow.

Zana was surprised by the respectful gesture. She returned the bow. "You're...Mical? Right?" His eyes opened wide and he only nodded. "Well, be careful--unmindful padawans and all. Wouldn't want you hurt, okay?" She smiled at him and he could only grin back as she walked away.

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At Serena's word, Tren sent a secure holovid to his contact on Alderaan, requesting the assistance of the Republic fleet in transporting their Jedi support to the battle front. Then, he stepped in front of the group of Jedi clustered at the center of the training room. "Stay in your chambers until we retrieve you. They won't try to stop us, and they can't make us stay. Take this time to consider what you're giving up, because you probably won't be able to return to the enclave. And remember why we do this: for the Republic and its inhabitants, those who cannot defend themselves, for all of us." The room emptied, and the four friends were left alone.

"Are we ready, Tren?"

"The _Courageous_ will be in orbit soon. They'll send shuttles to retrieve the recruits. They brought a long-range shuttle for us, too, so don't worry--it's all working out." He squeezed her shoulder and she smiled, no longer nervous, but restless to begin. Tren had started toward the door, but turned for a moment, "Oh, Serena. There's this guy--a Lieutenant Onasi--he'll be representing the Republic, overseeing the pickup. Is there anything we need to tell him?"

"Um..." She suddenly felt vaguely strange, as if the Force had trembled--Tren didn't seem to notice. _Weird._ Not for the first time, she pushed her second guesses and misgivings away; there was no room for doubt. "No, nothing important." She thought for a moment. "Just tell him that I hope the Republic will benefit from our services...and I'm sorry...for the deaths we weren't there to prevent." She turned her attention to Zana and Galen as Tren departed for the landing pad. "Zana, have you said your...goodbye?"

Zana blushed and nodded. Her farewell to Kavar...she'd never get to tell him that she...but she was sure, now, that he already knew. "Yeah, I'm ready to go when you are."

"Well, as soon as this Lieutenant guy gets here with the shuttles, and the recruits are loaded, we'll head out." She held Galen's hand, in full view and without fear. _What can they do to us now?_

Two hours later, while drinking caffa in the cafe, Serena's comm link buzzed and Tren's voice rang through the room, "We're ready for you. Send them out."

She suppressed a sliver of nervousness and pressed the button on the comm, "We're on our way."

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When the three emerged out of the shadow of the enclave and into the landing area, they were being followed by more than forty Jedi. Master Kae joined them near the shuttles; Serena was surprised to see any of the Master Jedi present at such a betrayal. Her old master just smiled. "Knight Revan, did you really think you could be rid of me so easily? You were my padawan, and now _I_ follow _you_."

"What do you mean, Master Kae? You're not joining the fleet, are you?"

"They cast me out of the Order, Serena. I am no longer a 'master' Jedi...I'm no longer a Jedi, at all, and neither are you." She raised her voice to speak over the shuttle engines. "You've all been cast from the Jedi Order, but take heart. You are Jedi because you defend justice, and you are symbols. The Council might have cast you aside, but to the Republic, you are saviors. You are no mere foot soldiers, and you are not gods. You are somewhere in between, and you would do well to remember the responsibility you are accepting."

Serena touched Master Kae's--correction, Kae's--shoulder. Whispering, she confided in Serena, "They said, because I taught you and you have defied the Council...that I have corrupted you. They blame me for your departure; but have heart, I am...better...for it. Perhaps it is the will of the Force?" Kae gave her another small grin, then stepped into a shuttle.

Tren was talking to Lieutenant...she couldn't really remember his name...They were finalizing plans. Confirming rendezvous points. Looking over at Serena and grinning. She blushed and turned around. The Republic soldier was handsome, well-built...She reached over and took Galen's hand again, pulling his attention away from the plains. He'd been committing them to memory, knowing he could never return. Galen squeezed her hand and showed his teeth in a wolfish grin, "Let's go to Telos."

As she watched the shuttles enter the atmosphere and become too small to see, Serena couldn't help but think, Cast out of the Order...They didn't waste any time.

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Zana took one last look at the enclave before boarding the long range shuttle. Leaning against the wall, watching them depart, was Kavar.

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**Telos IV, 14 hours later**

Galen was wearing his dress robes; the gray cloth swayed when he walked and the dark cape billowed behind him. Tren, Vedric, and Samosh were waiting with him while the girls finished dressing. He started going over everything again in his mind.

_Stand...pause...turn...hand..._ He knew the ceremony wasn't official--they didn't have time to wade through the Republic bureaucracy--but it was traditional and beautiful, just the same. Besides, there weren't many who would legally endorse a Jedi marriage without the Council's direct approval..._not that we are really Jedi anymore._ His mood faltered at this thought, but just for a moment. Serena caught his eye as she stepped out of a shadow wearing a light blue dress--one of Zana's most likely--and her hair hung over her shoulders in black curls and waves. She so rarely let it down that Galen had to fight the urge to walk over to her and run his hands through it. She smiled at Galen and moved to stand in the appropriate spot across from him.

They were facing one another, spread apart, and surrounded by their friends. Galen looked at his bride and couldn't help but feel giddy--something to which he was not accustomed. He began the ceremony, "I am alone. I wander the mountains in search of happiness."

She responded, "I am alone. I follow the river in search of peace."

They each took three steps, closing the gap between them. Pausing, they turned toward the sea and stood side-by-side, watching the sun set behind the expanse of bright blue water. As if offering his arm to Serena, he angled it out to the side. She placed her own hand and arm on top and aligned them with his. Tren and Zana silently brought a long rectangular piece of white Telosian linen and wrapped and tied their friends' hands together, binding their marriage in friendship and love.

"I was alone and incomplete, now I am whole." They said it in unison and meant every word. Galen glanced at Serena, she was beaming! Together, they walked to a small rack and each retrieved a tiny candle. Tren and Zana lit the candles and Galen and Serena used them to light a larger candle, signaling their joining. Galen smiled and leaned over to Serena, who turned toward him just in time to receive a zealous kiss. Their friends parted to allow the married couple to pass through to the wedding tent further down the beach. Local tradition dictated that they should stay up the beach and out of earshot from the newly married couple until morning. 

Galen led Serena to the tent in silence. _I am married! To Serena!_ A month ago, it wouldn't have been possible. He tried not to think about it anymore, unwilling to darken his thoughts on the brightest and happiest day of his life.

There would be many times in the future when Galen Malak would remember that night on Telos, and long for such simple happiness.

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A crackling fire met the newly married couple the next morning as they trekked up the beach to rejoin their friends. Zana was cooking small fish steaks and Vedric and Samosh had gone to the nearest settlement for more wine. Apparently, most of it had be imbibed by the happy friends throughout the night. As they ate, carefree talk turned to talk of war, as is often the case in such times. The group grew quiet and finished their meal in near silence. Tren and Zana went for a walk on the beach while Galen and Serena cleaned up the camp.

They shuffled hand-in-hand over the soft black sand of the Telosian sea, noting local species of insect and crustacean, watching birds dive into the water, and theorizing as to where the future would take them. "Do you think it will be a long war--I mean, longer than it has been already--or do you think we'll be able to end it quickly?"

It was a casual question, but the answer gave Tren the opening he'd been waiting for. "Well, it's likely that the war will last a few years more. We've been at war with those guys for over thirty years, way out at the edges of Outer Rim and it won't be fixed overnight. Zana..." He stopped, abruptly and looked at her. "Whadda _you_ see when you consider the future..._our_ future? Because...because I love you, and, if you will have me..." Tren pulled a ring out of his pocket; it was silver with a purplish stone set in the center. "I would be honored if you would be my wife. The stone is traditional on Alderaan and after the war we could go back there. I...you haven't said anything."

In fact, Zana looked angry. "What do you think you are doing?! What do you mean 'go back there,' to Alderaan? Are you giving up on the Order? Are you giving up on being a Jedi?"

"Whadda you mean? They cast us out, Zana, we're free now! Don't you _wanna_ marry me?!"

"Yes...yes, sure I want to marry you, but I can't." He squinted at her, unconvinced, but she continued, "When the war's over, we'll be heroes and the Council will see that we were right. When we help save the Republic, they'll have to take us back. And how can I return to Dantooine to complete my training if we're married? They would never let us return." Seeing the hurt look on his face, she realized what she'd said. "Oh, Tren, please. I didn't mean it quite like that. I..I think love you, but I'd like to wait until after the war to get married, okay? Just to see what happens." Waves crashed upon the beach as Zana waited for his reaction.

After a long silence, he asked, "You 'think' you love me?" He looked down at the ground. "Is it _Kavar_? D'you think that when the war is over, you can go back and he'll be so happy to see his pretty little padawan, he'll bed you on the spot?" His tone was even, but his eyes flashed with a rage that she guessed had been there for some time.

"I...what...no" She felt a blush creep up her neck to her cheeks. _How long has he known? But that's not the reason._ She was sure she loved Tren, in a way, but she couldn't give up the possibility of completing her training. Besides, getting married and settling down weren't exactly in her plans. "Please, the ring is lovely, but put it away for now. Let's just enjoy the beach, each other's company, and not think about the future." Tren silently nodded his acquiescence.

She tried to regain the formerly relaxing pace of their stroll, but Tren was sulking, kicking a stone down the beach, and Zana finally gave up. They made it back to camp just as Vedric was firing up the engines on their shuttle.

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On the long ride to the prearranged rendezvous point, Serena noticed a strange heaviness hanging between Tren and Zana. When they spoke, there was a stiff quality to the conversation and it seemed like most of what they said were politenesses: "pardon me," "excuse me." She was almost certain she knew the cause of their troubles, and Serena's own happiness only made her feel guilty. 

But, as they neared the fleet, her thoughts were filled with visions of war. It was time to put all of her studying with Masters Kae and Kavar to the test. The rendezvous would occur at Serroco, above the Stereb colonies, and the fleet expected to be attacked by the Mandalorians within ten hours of her arrival. The briefing and orientation would be just that: brief. Proximity alarms began to sound in the shuttle as they neared the hulking mass known as the _Victorious_, an _Interdictor_-class Republic ship.


	9. Part 9

**Upon docking, end of **_**For the Republic: Part 8**_****

Republic _**Interdictor**_**-class ship, **_**Victorious**_**, in orbit above Serroco.**

Recap of Part 8: Having stopped off at Telos for Galen and Serena's unofficial wedding, the happy couple and Zana, Tren, Vedric, and Samosh join the other Jedi recruits who are already on the _Victorious_. 

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Stepping off the ramp, Revan and her friends were met by the Republic commander of the _Victorious_, a Corellian with sandy hair and creases near his eyes. "Welcome to my ship, honored Jedi. I am Commander Alin Antilles. My vessel will serve as a command center for your operations during the war. We cannot express how thrilled we are that the Council finally granted those requests! It's starting to get a bit rough up here." He was jovial and spoke easily. His handlebar moustache moved when he grinned, and he was slightly rounder than the average Republic soldier. She instantly liked the man.

"So, Revan, I presume?" He was speaking to Malak. Revan reached out and shook his hand, smiling warmly. "Ah...um...well, how embarrassing! My apologies, Commander Revan!" _Commander?_ Her new title was somewhat disconcerting, but she tried not to show it.

"It's no problem, Commander Antilles."

He returned her smile, seemingly relieved. "You are to report directly to me for coordinating strategy and, when needed, will participate in command meetings. It is my understanding you have some knowledge of military tactics?"

"Yes, sir, I was training to serve in the capacity of tactical advisor to the fleet."

"Well, then, welcome to the position you've been training for! Except, of course, we're just one arm of the fleet." His wide grin was contagious. "Who else do we have here?"

Revan introduced her friends, pointing to each as she said their name. "Tren Dorn and Zana Dex, two of the best fighters I know." She winked at Zana. "And Galen Malak, my advisor--" She paused for effect, it was the first time she had said it to anyone outside their circle of friends, "--and my husband." A few pilots in the area audibly groaned, but Malak bore a satisfied grin. Antilles chuckled and led them to their quarters.

The other Jedi were housed along the same row of identical apartments. Commander Revan and her "advisor" were moved to a room with a double bed in the center, rather than bunks. The transparisteel windows provided a view of space and the planet below.

Removing her brown outer robes, Revan lay on the bed to relax. She had only meant to rest for a moment when she was suddenly awakened by violent shaking. The chrono showed that she had slept for two hours and Malak wasn't in sight.

Red lights flashed every few steps in the hall as she backtracked and found an elevator to the bridge. Stepping out of the elevator, Revan stopped and drew a sharp breath. The viewscreen above the consoles showed a small contingent of Mandalorian ships, spread above the planet like a net, coming about for a second round of firing on the Republic vessels. "Starboard, ensign! Let's get those guns trained on that one in the center! Fire at will!" The ship shook again. 

Malak noticed that Revan had joined them. "Serena..." He came up behind her, kissed her on the cheek, and pushed her over to the commander.

Antilles looked relieved to see her. "Ho, there you are, Revan! We were about to send a runner. It's time to show us what your Jedi can do. We need that center ship taken out of commission or we won't be able hit the dreadnoughts--it's the ship housing their stealth field generator." Revan arched a brow. "Oh, there are about three times as many ships out there. They share a stealth field system that's controlled from that ship." He pointed to a small silver battleship. The screen zoomed closer.

"Consider it done." Revan left the bridge immediately, sending Malak to gather the Jedi and bring them to a nearby conference room. When they had assembled, she began, "It's time for us to act. We are most useful in disabling the stealth field generator. I need six volunteers; one should be a qualified pilot as the territory isn't exactly friendly." After a small hesitation, a few of the Jedi stepped forward to volunteer. "Okay, I'll lead; Zana, Vedric, Samosh, Pol, Galen, Jon. Everyone else, see if there's anything you can do. I'm leaving Tren in charge." They nodded to one another and the volunteers followed Revan to the hangar bay.

Over her shoulder, she heard Tren ask if anyone had specialized in healing and, if so, would they please report to the medical bay to assist with the injured. She considered leaving Malak behind, as well, to protect him, but his improved lightsaber techniques would be invaluable.

They were given the _Starling_, a Corellian freighter that had been rigged for fast runs into dangerous territory--suspiciously like a smuggling ship. She smirked at the implications regarding Commander Antilles possible pre-military occupation. It was equipped with an astromech droid and a considerable weapons system.

They loaded and disembarked, heading straight for the silver ship. Revan was trying to recall what Master Kavar had said about mass stealth devices. Regardless of design, the generator and its controls would be located near the back of the ship, safeguarding it from a direct frontal attack, instead of the bridge, which would be the obvious location. 

Vedric docked with the larger ship, dodging blaster fire and the occasional small fighter. When the exit ramp opened, they jumped back as blaster fire shot into the hold. Revan yelled, "Everyone remember that blaster deflection technique we worked on back at the enclave? Now's the time. Activate shields." Each Jedi activated a prototype energy shield provided by Commander Antilles.

Revan was the first down the ramp, deflecting blaster fire and leaving the way open for her team; Malak followed close on her heels. With quick dodges and hand-to-hand attacks, they managed to disarm and injure the Mandalorians in the docking bay, but she couldn't bring herself to kill them. She knew it was a weakness and that the injured Mandalorians could raise an alarm or shoot her in the back as she moved on. In the end, they were locked in a storage room.

The team moved down the corridors of the ship, being assailed by more and more Mandalorians as they made their way toward the stealth field generator. The Mandalorian resistance was heavy and, because the Jedi were not taking life, progress was slow.

Revan slashed at another Mandalorian, knocking him down and striking his head with the end of her saber, rendering him unconscious. She glanced quickly at the rest of her team, dismayed to see they were now making little to no progress at all. If they couldn't push their way through the Mandalorians without causing casualties, then she had to consider whether death really _was_ necessary. Her Jedi training preached peace, but now that they were at war…

Another Mandalorian abruptly leapt in front of her. Revan used the Force to push the man out of the way, hoping to knock him unconscious on a bulkhead. She didn't, and as soon as he could stand, he ran at her, vibroblade poised to strike. She hesitated, only for a second, then parried. The Mandalorian's vibroblade sneaked past her defenses, slashing her right leg and rendering it useless. Just as she screamed out in pain, his empty hand came around in a fist, and then she felt no more pain—she felt nothing.

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He heard her scream and whirled around to find his wife. As he scanned the area, his anger became a deeply-rooted fury. She was on the ground, twenty paces down the hall, a large Mandalorian leering at her as he grabbed at her body. Malak abandoned his own fight, throwing the enemy into stasis and running after the absconding Mandalorian. He tried to use the Force, but his rage was interfering. The others followed Malak, and soon the man carrying Revan was being pursued by five Jedi. Their abandoned opponents followed close behind.

In the end, the Jedi were cornered and shoved roughly into separate force cages.

They were in some sort of makeshift brig, apparently, though transparisteel viewports and computer consoles lined the walls. Revan lay on the floor, unconscious and breathing with a strange gurgling shallowness that Zana suggested was likely shock. Malak tried to assess her wounds, but he just couldn't get a good enough view of her from his own cage. He sat down, closed his eyes and meditated, trying to reach her, to see that she was alright. She needed to wake up and heal herself, quickly, before she lost too much blood or the shock took her into convulsions. Malak tried not to picture her convulsing body as it slammed into the sides of the force cage, but his imagination filled in the blanks, anyway.

_As he meditated, he looked for her in the fog of the Force, among the thousands of minds on the ships in the sky and on the surface of Serroco. He found the soldiers on the planet below, the Mandalorians in the next room, Captain Antilles. Antilles was a ball of quiet nerves, radiating his expectation that the Jedi would not fail him. And then he found her, a quiet spot in the Force, a locked door he could not open. He searched the white door for a handle, ran his hands over the door in vain, kicked it a few times, and then, to his chagrin, he knocked and it opened._

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Revan opened her eyes as Malak opened his own. "Hello, my love." She smiled as best she could, but the pain in her leg drew her attention. Placing a hand across the gash, Revan began to heal it. It took only a minute and she was standing, mostly healed, and trying to come up with a plan. She was finally beginning to think of herself as the leader--"Commander" Revan, as Antilles put it-- and as such she knew she was the one who had to get them out of this mess. Through the starboard viewport, she could see two large frigates escorting the ship. She glanced in the other direction and saw the same. An idea began to form, a gambit once used in the Great Sith War, and it might work now.

As she turned to tell Malak, she saw Zana over his shoulder, and Samosh just past her. She tried to scream, to yell "Stop!", but it was too late.

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Zana didn't like to be held down. She didn't like to be trapped, pinned in like an animal. Star ships were hard enough with their lack of space and privacy, not to mention the limited amounts of oxygen. It was strange because, when she was on Dantooine, she had completely forgotten how she hated them. Now she was remembering the trip to Dantooine from Palanhi. Leaving her parents had been heart wrenching, but the worst part, by far had been the space flight. It was one more reason she and Kavar had rarely left the enclave. He was tired of travel, and she wanted nothing of it. And she was in a force cage on top of it all.

She began reciting the Jedi Code: _There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge..._ She considered each line, trying to hold onto her _peace_, _knowledge_, _serenity_, and _harmony_ within the Force, but she could feel panic rising at the edges of her mind. Her lungs felt heavy and the air seemed suddenly thin and unbreathable. She closed her eyes, concentrated. Pushing the panic away, Zana realized she was focusing on the problem and not the solution. _The solution?_ The nearby control console..._That's the cage control, isn't it?_ She couldn't know for sure.

"Vedric?" He was one cage closer to it. "See that lever, the blue one, up at the top of the console? Is that the cage release?"

"By the Force! Zana, you're right! It's a standard shape and color, anyway. Who makes these ships for them?" He closed his eyes momentarily, but opened them after a few minutes looking defeated. "It won't budge."

She felt foolish for not having tried it herself, but Zana had never really excelled at manipulating the physical world. She was a healer, an empath, and a fighter. Samosh was directly across from the lever. He also closed his eyes, attempting to move the lever with his mind. Zana watched as Samosh frowned, looking almost confused. "He's right, Zana. There's something wrong about it." His brow furrowed, trying again to move the lever.

Feeling more trapped than ever, Zana turned her back on them both to check on Malak and Revan. _This is impossible._ As the thought crossed her mind, a series of strange, sad, and amazing events occurred.

Revan woke-up. Zana was thrilled to see her friend standing again, unaided. She only had seconds to appreciate it, however, before she saw Revan, who was facing her, make a movement to scream as her face contorted into what looked fear or pain. "Samosh, no!" screamed Vedric. It was then that Zana heard a loud pop, a monstrous crash, and the force cage shielding disappeared.

And then she smelled it: burning flesh, burning hair, burning fabric. She turned very slowly, unable to stop herself, unable to look away. There, on the ground, both arms extended high and grasping the cage release lever, his legs splayed at unnatural angles, his eyes staring, his skin burnt and blacked, his red hair completely burned away by the force cage barrier…there was Samosh. Vedric lay across his friend, arms around his charred body, tears mixing with ash.

The evidence of Samosh's last moments was clear. In his fervor to escape, he had made the ultimate sacrifice for his fellow Jedi. He jumped through the force cage shield, propelling himself with the Force as he reached for the lever. The Mandalorians must have rigged the shields to be more destructive than usual because the damage to his body was horrible. It took all of them a moment to understand what had happened; filtering it through their minds as only Jedi could, reading all of the tiny signs, details. Suddenly, the others realized that Samosh had succeeded. The cages were off.

_bang-bang_

_"Shabla!"_ They all heard it through the muffled door. Samosh must have used the Force to lock the door before he attempted the lever. The Jedi stood in awe, frozen in place.

_bang-bang_

Finally able to move, Zana jumped out of the circle of the force cage. She was careful not to turn toward Samosh's body, unable to look, but under too much stress to mourn. She stumbled over to Revan, grabbing her friend's robe, frantic. "Serena! Samosh--he…he's dead!" She gasped. "My breath, can't breathe! Se…rena! Se--" 

Serena smacked her smoothly in the face--coolly, dispassionately--and Zana went quiet, tears forming in her eyes. She didn't cry, just nodded, and silently thanked her friend for restoring her sanity.

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Revan hated slapping Zana, but there were times when the girl's emotions simply would not be still. She'd seen it happen a few times at the academy, but never like this. As Zana came to her senses, Revan and the others moved to the corner of the room farthest from the door. They determined that their weapons must be in the other room, with their captors. It was not the ideal situation for Revan's plan, but it would have to do.

"We are going to make the other ships attack this one," she told them. "If those escorting frigates attack it, destroy it, it will expose the hidden dreadnoughts. Plus, they'll lose at least one ship thanks to us. We need to get to the gun turrets. Galen, can you look on that console, see if you can pull up a schematic of the ship? And bring down the shields, if you can?" Malak nodded, hoping his experience with the archives' tetchy computers would aid him now.

"When that door opens, we attack. I need you all to remember your training for this and listen to your instincts. We make a quick search for our weapons, but just for a minute. If we have to go without them, we will. When we find the turrets, we fire on that ship." She pointed out the window. "It will fire back because, in the confusion of war, the enemy is the friend is the enemy." All but Zana looked confused. Malak signaled that he had the schematic and he projected it onto a large viewscreen. "Here. We go here. What I was saying earlier, it means that in war, if it shoots at you, it's the enemy. Period. So, we shoot that ship, it shoots this one. Okay?" To her surprise, the entire team agreed, immediately.

Revan had one more thing to discuss; she looked at Vedric, whose red puffy eyes returned her gaze. She spoke softly, not even trying to hide her sorrow, "We can't take him with us. I…I think you know why. I'm so sorry, Vedric." She grabbed his hand, but he snatched it back.

Vedric stood up, "We can't leave him!" He went over to Samosh, put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and closed his eyes.

"But, Vedric, we..." Revan whispered, knowing he was hurting and not knowing what to say.

Zana stepped forward, walked over to Vedric and placed a gentle hand on his back, rubbing soft circles and speaking quietly. "Serena knows," she said, "But she also knows that we have to get out of here alive, to keep helping the Republic."

"But why did he--" Vedric's anguish was plain.

"Samosh understood what needed to be done, Vedric. And he'll understand now, you know he will." She was still speaking in the soothing tone, comforting her friend.

"Alright." He took a deep, shuddering breath, trailing his fingers across Samosh's neck and down his back. Vedric stood up next to Zana. "Okay." Rejoining the group, he simply nodded at Revan.

Revan was surprised; that had gone relatively smoothly. She knew Zana had a talent for connecting with others, but this type of intervention went far beyond that. Unfortunately, there wasn't time to ponder.

Malak unlocked the door with the console, and they rushed out of the brig and into the outer guard post. Besting two Mandalorians in hand-to-hand combat would have been a feat, even if they did outnumber the Mandas two-to-one. As it was, the Mandalorians barely broke a sweat before Malak finally found their lightsabers. "Thank the Force!!" Malak tossed Revan's lightsaber to her, and this time she didn't hesitate. With a burst of Force speed, she threw herself, bodily, at the Mandalorian closest to her. His head was bent back at an odd angle as she pressed her arm painfully against his helmet, exposing his neck to her blade. Thinking of Samosh and applying her lightsaber, bathing the man in diffuse violet light, she resolved never to hesitate to kill again. 

The group began moving quickly down the corridors, following the map in Revan's head. At a fork, Revan sent Malak and Vedric to the opposite end of the ship with instructions to hit any ships they saw, then get to the _Starling_. Revan, Zana, and Pol finally stumbled into a turret station. They each took a gun and began firing upon the closest frigate. Nothing happened.

They fired again. And they watched with horror and a sense of accomplishment as the ship's large turrets turned toward the cloaking ship.

They fired a third set for good measure, and only stayed in the turret station long enough to see the other ship fire its first shots. Running through the halls, desperate to get to the hangar and board the _Starling_, they nearly ran headlong into Malak and Vedric.

All five Jedi climbed aboard the Corellian freighter. Vedric pulled them out of the hanger and sped toward _Victorious_ as the frigates attacked the ship, taking advantage of the distraction. 

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The soldiers cheered as the group entered the bridge. Zana spared a glance at the viewscreen, gasping when she saw how many Mandalorian ships had been revealed. _Too many._ Another of Master Kavar's lessons broke into her thoughts. _There is nothing shameful in running away from a fight. The only shame is in fighting a battle you know you will lose, and being too proud to runaway with your life intact._ She smiled at the thought of him, but as his words echoed in her mind, Zana realized this was one of those fights.

She leaned against the railing of the upper bridge and let her mind wander over the ships. She was suddenly, painfully aware of the dead left behind on the ship as it started its fiery explosion. Two of the frigates were caught up in the explosion and all three ships expelled escape pods to the surface below. The dead…their screaming tried to drag her down and she fought to stay conscious as her mind moved through space. They became weaker and, finally, she was all but deaf to their cries. She rubbed both hands over her face and raked a hand through her hair. _There must be a purpose to my life, but what that purpose is…? I have no idea. I feel...fractured? That's not completely accurate. Spread too thin._ She missed Master Kavar, and thinking of Tren, felt somewhat ashamed to admit it.

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On the bridge, they were greeted by whoops and hollers of "Congratulations!" and "You did it!" Revan was numb to it all. It was one thing to practice lightsaber dueling and pretend to defeat the opponent. It was quite another thing to feel the resistance at the end of a 'saber as it sliced through flesh; the smell alone was terrifying. She had blocked all of it out until she was safely on the bridge. It reminded her of Samosh, and she shoved aside that thought, promising to mourn him later when there was more time. Vedric, she noted, had gone directly to his apartment. He would take it harder than the others; they'd been best friends since that first year on Dantooine, inseparable.

Standing together, in silence, Revan and Zana watched Republic fighters and freighters dodging and firing on the less agile Mandalorian ships, which were now visible. The _Victorious_ received a hail from one of the mid-size cargo haulers. Surprisingly, it was Lieutenant... his name escaped her, thought she did remember Zana saying she thought he seemed nice. Revan barely noticed him through her mental haze.

"Commander Antilles, _Deadweight_ reporting in for Rear Admiral Karath. Confirming that you are responsible for disabling the stealth field generator."

"Indeed. We're the new HQ for the Jedi forces sent to assist in the war effort. They won't be hiding any more ships from your boys, Carth."

"Good to hear, Antilles. Onasi, out." The pilot disappeared from the screen.

"Damn good pilot..." was all that Commander Antilles had time to say before the ship veered hard to starboard and he was forced to grab the nearest console.

"Commander, they're firing planet-killers at our _ships_! We dodged--"

"What the--What's our status?!" Suddenly, there was a flash. The bridge was filled with light and only reflex slammed their eyes closed and turned their heads before they were blinded by the blast. Static crackled through the viewscreens on the bridge and some of them had gone completely black. "What the fracking hell was that?!" Sirens blared through the ship.

Antilles took up the comm, activating the "Battle Stations!" announcement and adding, "Maintenance and security report to your stations." Another blinding flash. Another. The Republic fleet could only watch from the space above Serroco as the Mandalorians dispatched planet-killers on the Stereb cities and Republic bases below. 

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Zana felt a shudder through the Force and hastily erected a mental shield to block most of the pain as Serroco died. Closing her eyes, she remembered a vision, a dream she had on Dantooine:

_Serena and Zana, flying low over the Stereb cities of Serroco. They were turned to glass before their eyes as a series of planet-killers detonated…_

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"Commander, they're firing a second round."

"All ships: Pull out, PULL OUT!" It was Rear Admiral Karath on the open frequency. "Retreat and regroup."

The archives would later indicate that twenty-seven separate impact "zones" were located on Serroco. Some of the planet-killers had been launched at ships involved in a fire-fight above the atmosphere and, having missed, they fell to the surface and detonated. Only eight ships docked on-planet escaped, and Serroco was rendered nearly uninhabitable.

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The fleet regrouped at Eres III a week later. They put down at Camp 5, joining ground forces from various branches of the Republic military. In the command tent, Commander Antilles' introduced Revan to the ground commander. "Dursa!" Antilles clapped the man on the back. "John Dursa, Jedi Commander Revan." She nodded to the man.

Commander Dursa regarded Revan with a strange look, "Jedi? I had heard they were joining the effort. A big mess, from the sound of it." Antilles raised an eyebrow at Revan.

"Commander Dursa, I imagine you're correct. I don't believe Commander Antilles is aware of the situation, but I suppose it won't hurt for both of you to know." She sighed and turned to Commander Antilles. "The Jedi Council didn't send us, Alin. We came on our own, to protect the Republic. We…abandoned the Jedi Order to come here." She waited for their disapproving arguments, but the two men just stared at her.

"You…you're here on your own? You volunteered? Doesn't that mean…" Antilles broke into a wide grin. "You gave up all of that to come here? Commander Revan, we are happy to have you and your Jedi, no matter how you got here. If your loyalty to the Republic is that strong, may it carry us through to the end of the war and a peaceful future!" He pulled out a hidden flask and took a quick gulp, passing it around the table. 

After demonstrating some of the more useful Force powers available—pushing a table across the room in one swipe, increasing speed, and so on—the two men and the Jedi commander discussed how best to use the Jedi in the expected ground battle. After much discussion, they finalized their plans.

"Alright, Antilles. Get back to your luxury ship. We'll take it from here." Dursa laughed and they shook hands as all three exited the tent. While the two friends wandered off toward the _Victorious_, Revan went to look for Malak. She found him at one of the fires, talking to Zana while Tren sat next to her, staring despondently into the fire.

"Are you okay, Tren?" He grunted the affirmative.

She took a seat and they discussed their friends back on Dantooine, the weather, strategy...

Zana was biting her bottom lip. "Serena, I'm no _general_."

"We'll try to stick with a support role mostly, Zana; healing, raising morale, speed, that kind of thing--and hopefully ridding the galaxy of a few more Mandalorians before we're through." No one smiled. 

"You guys will be there to help the soldiers you're attached to. You're in charge, but only because I'm coordinating the activities between the Jedi, Dursa's troops, and Antilles' ships." Remembering the good news, "Oh, and according to Antilles, there are more Jedi on the way! They decided to follow us--some from Coruscant and other enclaves!" She pursed her lips. "I only hope it helps. I can imagine Master Vrook's face now…" She grimaced. "Anyway, Antilles and Dursa seem to know what they're doing. We can trust their plans." _It's not how I would do it, certainly. But who am I?_

She took a deep breath and put on a bright smile. "You'll know what to do. Listen to the Force; listen to your mind and your heart. I fought beside you on that Mandalorian ship. We've practiced together for years. I have confidence in your abilities." Revan looked around the circle. "All three of you." She smiled warmly.

After another half-hour of talking, they finally stood and silently walked back to their tents as day faded to twilight: Revan and Malak hand-in-hand, Zana and Tren trailing behind. In the tent they shared, Revan told Malak about Commander Dursa's reaction to their reason for being at war. She noticed he wasn't particularly listening.

"What's wrong? You seem bothered, like Tren."

"Serena, we participated in the death of a planet! Are the Jedi…ex-Jedi the only people here who understand that? Those fools are having celebrations and planning the next battle, but it was not a victory. Why are we here?"

"I...I thought I'd know that once I got here." The silence gelled between them, finally broken when Revan leaned over and kissed Malak on the forehead. "I love you, by the way." She strode out of their tent, in the process of clipping on her lightsaber.

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_I know._ He smiled slightly as she left the tent, still unable to shake the bad mood. He decided to meditate. Sitting on the grassy floor of the tent, he closed his eyes and opened his mind to the Force. He couldn't focus, though, and everything came back to the Mandalorians. Their armies wouldn't be resting right now, having a drink, or celebrating. _They would be advancing..._

A twinge at the edge of his senses made Malak look up.

Sending out a probing edge of his Force-sense, he found Revan...Dursa and Antilles...a group of drunken soldiers...the fighter and cargo pilots, having arm wrestling matches..."Ahghghhh!" Malak fell backward, flat on the ground. Head ringing, he scrambled outside just in time to see a dozen Mandalorians uncloaking, brandishing their vibroblades at Revan. Malak felt his fury rise again, radiating off of him, threatening his sanity.

For a moment he was astonished at the intensity of the emotion he felt for Revan, but he brushed it aside, jumping forward, his lightsaber ignited and glowing angrily in the near-darkness. She quickly placed a hand on his arm—a simple gesture, but his rage subsided. She shoved six of them into stasis, just as they started to attack, then whirled around to parry a lunge from another. Malak attacked, as well, and they fought side-by-side, as they had practiced on Dantooine; a tornado of violet and green. Other Jedi joined the fray, throwing out stasis fields and pushing the Mandalorians with the Force. Together they made short work of the infiltrators.

Malak scanned the area, searching for that peculiar Manda mental signature. "All clear, for now," he rumbled. He found Revan sitting on the ground, clutching her stomach, "Serena, what is wrong?!"

"I'm okay, Galen. Bishwag kicked me in the stomach--" She gasped for breath. "--knocked the wind out of me--I got him, though." She forced a half-smile as he pulled her up off the ground, still gasping. 

Malak issued an order to a passing knight, "I need someone to find out how they got by our guards. And confiscate their weapons, armor, and stealth units and send them to the armory." He reluctantly let go of Revan's arm. "I want you to see a medic." 

"Later. Look, I'm fine." Her annoyance was made clear by her cutting tone. "We have things to do before more of them make it through our perimeter." She stalked away.

He watched as some of the Jedi and soldiers examined the bodies, letting out little gasps of awe and horror. For some, it was their first time seeing death. Malak was taken aback by how little he was affected. Since the stealth ship, his senses had already adjusted; he didn't even feel remorse.

Wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand, Malak surveyed the horizon. There were huge fires burning in the distance; the Mandalorians had ignited the Xoxin fields. Revan had theorized that they would burn them. He remembered that it was another of Zana's visions from Dantooine. _Even if we defend this planet, it has lost its main exportable natural resource._

Malak sighed, shaking his head, and trotted off to do his own check on the perimeter in the opposite direction. 

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"Commander, have you told your husband?" The medic looked unusually concerned about a kick in the stomach. The pain hadn't subsided, so Revan had finally surrendered herself to the medical tent.

"Yes, he saw me just after. I told him what I told you: I just got the wind knocked out of me. I'm still able to fight, it just hurts! Is there something wrong? Did that Mandalorian _schutta_ cause some kind of damage?"

"Commander Revan, you are...with child. I thought you would know—"

"I'M WHAT?!" Revan's eyes were wide with disbelief. She shook her head, "No. No, I'm not pregnant. I can't be pregnant, WE'RE IN A WAR! Sweet Force, what have I done..."

"Should I summon Jedi Mal—"

"No! I'll see to it myself. Is it…is it okay?"

"Yes, Commander, the baby seems to be fine. It appears to be four weeks along." While the nurse turned to check a chart, Revan did a quick calculation. _Telos…or Dantooine, before we left…or just after Serroco…_

"Luckily, ma'am, the kick didn't damage your child or you; it only caused minor contractions in the muscles surrounding it and some bruising. I've given you some chemicals to relax the muscles and soon you will feel fine." Before Revan could ask, she added, "I did take into account the nature of Jedi to process chemicals rather more quickly than the average person. I hope this is satisfactory." She smiled sweetly.

"Thank you, I do appreciate your forethought. And, I'll tell him. Please don't say anything." She pressed her influence through the Force. "I trust you will keep this confidential."

The medic's eyes turned slightly glassy, "I will keep this confidential."

Making her way through camp, Revan posted patrols for the night, sent a few Jedi to bed, and then retired to bed, herself. Malak came in not long after and, instead of falling into his own cot across the tent, crawled into bed behind her. He wrapped his long arms around the commander and snuggled his face into the crook of her neck. "I love you."

She rolled over to face him, tracing the lines of his face, his lips, his chin with her fingertips. Revan considered telling him, she had honestly planned to tell him, but now that he was in front of her, she didn't have the strength to face his inevitable insistence that she return to the ship. The Mandalorian had merely kicked her in the stomach to knock her off balance. _He certainly did that._ She smiled gently. "I love you, Galen." Kissing him, she rolled over to face away from Malak. She pressed her back into his stomach, and fell asleep encircled in his embrace--which was all she ever wanted.

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**The campaign on Eres III lasted thirty-six standard days. Commander Revan and her newly-promoted Generals participated in twenty-seven offensives with Republic troops and air support. It wasn't enough. Eres III had been lost the moment the Mandalorians set the Xoxin fields aflame. As the fires spread, civilian causalities rose exponentially. Commander Dursa called for a retreat on day twenty-six, after a group of Republic soldiers became disoriented and were lost in the fumes of the burning Xoxin. Most of the evacuations had been completed, and it was apparent that Eres III was a loss no matter how valiant the effort.**

Smaller battles between campaigns weren't much more successful, though they did win a few. The weeks seemed to drag on with little reason to celebrate.

The Republic fleet retreated again, this time to Dagary Minor. A large base had been erected there at the beginning of the war, and it was useful as a safe area for troop staging and refueling ships. 

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**Eleven weeks after the Battle of Serroco.**

_tap-tap-tap_

She was staring out the window of their apartment on _Victorious_, watching the people of Camp Echo as they prepared for the troops to disembark into the camp. They carried baskets, weapons, firewood. Some of the people were children. _Children helping with the war effort…_ Revan absently rubbed her stomach. At roughly fourteen weeks pregnant, she wasn't showing any signs, nor was she having any of the expected side-effects; a small mercy, as she had yet to tell Malak.

_**tap-tap-tap**_

Revan stood and pressed the door mechanism. It slid open and, there before her, stood Master Kae. "Come in, Master. I was wondering when I would see you again."

"I have been assisting with the healing of the injured, Serena. There is work for me, yet. However, I have come to inquire…as to the child."

Revan frowned. "I know it's not that obvious, yet."

"You haven't told Knight Malak, I assume. Perhaps it is a good thing. I have foreseen that there will be trouble with your child during this battle." Seeing Revan's concerned expression, Kae softened her tone. "_That_ is how I knew of your condition. Serena, you must take your leave—the leave you have considered since before you came to war."

"Malachor V?"

"Yes, Revan. You must go to Malachor V. Determine what spurs these Mandalorians onward, and why they fear that place. Then return, and use that knowledge to defend your child and make the galaxy peaceful again." She studied Revan. "I have seen you, in the future, playing with your child. He is strong, his hair is dark and his eyes are deep pools settled in a kind face. He is tall and his smile is bright and sweet...And you are happy, my child."

Revan smiled and looked out the window once again. "And what about _those_ children? Master, why do they endanger them? Am I the same, going into battle with my child?"

"Padawan Dex will take your place, if you ask it of her. She is very strong in the Force; in fact, she is unique."

"Unique? Zana?"

"Come now, you haven't figured it out yet? She has an affinity for bonding herself to others, it is her nature. Through these bonds, each party is strengthened; it is a good quality to have in a general. She inspires those...soldiers--" She spat the word out, with distaste that puzzled Revan. "--and through the bonds, they readily follow her. You see?"

Revan did see; it was a thrilling discovery. Master Kae warned, "Do not tell her of this ability, Serena." At a questioning look from Revan, she continued. "Zana isn't aware of it, and it is best for now. Through her bonds, it is possible to influence others against their better judgment. The soldiers will follow her...and die _for her_. She is too gentle to take on that burden of truth; later, when times are kinder." Master Kae patted Revan on the back and started toward the door. "Go, now, before you are missed, speak with your friend. Then, to Malachor to discover what it is you must know."

"Thank you, Master Kae—"

"It is only 'Arren' now, Serena. And you do not owe me any _thanks_." As she stepped out the door, Arren Kae turned and Revan was unable to see the smirk on the former master's face, "May the Force be with you."

Revan packed a bag for the trip, essentials such as clothing, food, and medical supplies. Leaving the _Victorious_, she walked down the boarding ramp and out into the sprawl of newly erected Republic tents. She _had_ noticed that Zana's troops seemed particularly devoted to the young general; she had assumed it was lecherous intent or zeal for combat. Now that the truth was revealed, it was obvious. She was the most successful of Revan's generals, and the reason was suddenly all too apparent. They were bonded to her. _They love her._

Revan joined Dursa, Tren, Malak, and Zana on a short flat platform. The ground troops were spread about them, Antilles informing them about the current situation on Dagary Minor, the difficulties ahead. When he was finished, he motioned for Revan to say something. Unsure of herself, usually suggesting that Tren give such speeches, she edged up to the front of the platform.

Her words began, quiet at first. Then building, building, until the climax, until she was practically yelling, "--and how many years will this war continue?!" Revan paused for effect. "We can finish this, together! Maybe today...maybe tomorrow...We are here to **end** this war. To send the Mandalorian _schuttas_ back to the abyss...to protect the Republic...and get you all back home to your families!" She gave them a bright smile, making eye contact with as many soldiers as possible. The crowd erupted into cheering and clapping, whooping and yelling "Remember Serroco!" They were desperately reaching for anything to prepare them for the bloody battle ahead. 

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In the space between Revan's speech and their deployment, Zana realized she didn't have her lightsaber. _Odd,_ she remembered attaching it. Signaling Revan that she would "be right back," Zana ran toward the tent she shared with Tren. He was inside--_When did he leave the podium?_--holding her lightsaber and meditating. When he noticed her presence, he silently returned it to her, and remained standing without any explanation. "Tren, what..." He leaned over and kissed her, smothering her words with his lips.

Breaking away, he whispered, "Shh...Listen to me Zana--and I mean _listen_ to me, don't just listen in the normal way." He sounded peculiar--_maniacal_, even. "I love you, Zana, and you know it's true. Don't you love _me_, Zana?" His whispered "please..." stabbed at her heart.

"Yes, Tren..." She sighed heavily. "Yes, I love you." She had been dreading this moment for weeks, but she knew it was inevitable. He'd been brooding, un-characteristically quiet and introverted. His easy smile and quick wit had made rare appearances since docking with the _Victorious_. When Zana first noticed, she thought it was the gravity of the situation; now, she knew exactly what it was...

"Then marry me, Zana. Please. Say you'll marry me. I know I can make you happy…" He paused, searching her face with his eyes. "I was so scared when you went with Serena and Galen in the first battle. I worry about you all of the time now, and I can't wait any longer. Let's do it before anything else happens."

Zana took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Tren, you knew the answer to this before you asked. What's the point in asking me again, now, while we wait for an attack? I haven't changed my mind; I can't marry you." He scowled at her, his eyes glossing over...and then his rage hit her full force, his face contorted into a murderous mask as he started backing away. She failed to hide her growing concern, "Tren, please don't do this. Stay...I do love you--You know I do! Search my mind if you doubt it. Here, it's open to you..." She closed her eyes and held her breath, hoping to sense him probing her mind. Nothing. And then she heard him stomp out of the tent. 

When she opened her eyes, Tren was gone, and looking outside the flap, she could see that it had been easy for him to slip away into the crowd of soldiers. She went back inside the tent and sat on his cot, recalling his face, just before she closed her eyes. _That monster wasn't Tren!_ She hugged his pillow to her chest, smelled his scent on it, and hugged it tighter. 

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By the time Revan found her, Zana was on her way back to the commons, to ready the troops for an assault. When Revan asked her about Tren, who was conspicuously absent, her friend looked distant and no amount of prodding could get her to explain what happened.

Though Revan was sure she knew, and she felt another pang of guilt.

She shrugged it away. There were more important things to worry about. "Something has…occurred to me, Zana. I need to go somewhere, somewhere secret. I'm sorry I can't tell you, Zana, but you must believe me. It's important to our cause. While I'm away, I need you to serve in my stead. By now, you're a better leader than I am, you led more teams on Eres than any of us, and they'll follow you. The plan was for me to lead the charge. Zana, I trust you to lead the soldiers on the ground." She hugged her friend for one long minute. "I need to go...soon. Please—please tell Galen I will be back, and not to worry. And listen to Dursa and Antilles…and yourself!" 

"But, Serena, where will you go? I mean, you may need help. How will we know where to find you?" 

"I'll be fine. Master Kae has foreseen it. But please don't ask her; just take care of the battle. Lead the troops. You can do it, Zana. I have faith in you, and so do they."


	10. Part 10

**A few hours after **_**For the Republic: Part 9**_**, a direct continuation.**

**Camp Echo, Dagary Minor, Republic **_**Interdictor**_**-class ship, the **_**Victorious**_

Zana escorted Revan back to the _Victorious_. They hugged again and Revan slipped down the corridor.

Hurrying, she did a mental check. Malak was nowhere on the ship. _It's better this way. I'll be back soon._ Slipping into the hangar bay, Revan initialized the _Starling_ and cycled through its pre-flight checks. Cleared for takeoff, she disengaged from the ship's gravity stabilizers and flew away from the soon-to-be battleground, the children of war, and the _Victorious_.

On the flight to Malachor V, there were occasions when she wondered what her friends were doing, but she was too scared to reach out to them through the Force. Instead, she closed her mind and spent most of her time meditating. She ate what was necessary to ensure her strength and the health of her child, but Revan had no desire for food aside from survival. For the first time in her life, Revan was facing true fear. She had felt _apprehension_, _nervousness_, _worry_...but the fear throttling her mind was new and terrible. For the first time, she felt like a mother. As she closed on the planet, she detected a landing beacon and decided to go with her instinct. She heard the voices: strangely familiar, inviting, grasping at her with desire. _We can make you strong. We can make you powerful. We can show you how to protect those you...love._

Shaking her head to clear it, Revan readied the _Starling_ for landing. The surface of the planet was mountainous and volcanoes ringed the valley from which the beacon emanated. Dead trees and broken columns leaned in all directions. The small freighter shook and dipped as it landed--strong winds buffeted the ship until it finally came to a stop with a jarring clang. Finding her feet, Revan checked the air quality, temperature, and scanned for life. A strange feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach upon landing; she felt cold and suddenly...apathetic. She felt lonely, and tired, and...Malak...she missed him...she should have--_It's the dark side, I can feel it swirling in this place, in the wind outside. The voices...they're like the voices I heard on Dantooine, in the temple when..._ She forced herself not to finish that thought and slapped the release on the exit ramp.

Descending the ramp, Revan took a quick look at the scenery, wrapped her arms around her stomach, and screamed. She slumped to the cold metal ramp, unable to hold any thought beyond the pain. Grasping at the Force, unable to find the light in so much darkness, Revan desperately called-out to the Force in defense of her child. The darkness closed as Revan's head met the ramp.

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She fell hard, a hole in her side from a blaster shot that had slipped through her defenses--but it was more than that. Just before she was shot, Zana had felt an excruciating pain in her stomach: a deep burning ache, like something was ripping at her insides, clawing its way out. Her defenses down, the Mandalorian she had been fighting hand-to-hand found his opportunity to kill the Jedi general. He had moved on before she even hit the ground.

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When he saw her fall, it was more than he could bear. Malak betrayed his hiding spot and ran to his wife, bleeding from the gash she sustained as she crashed to the metal ramp. Her face was contorted into a silent scream, intermittently producing an actual scream that tore at his heart. He pulled her up into his lap and stroked her hair. "Serena!" She was mumbling, still holding her stomach. "SERENA!!" He stood her up, and pulled and dragged her into the ship. The exit ramp closed behind them as he moved her into the closest bunk. Aware of the dark side of the Force surrounding them, Malak's first goal was to take her off the Force-damned planet. He skipped all optional checks, and the _Starling_ was airborne in minutes, carrying the screaming, half-crazed Jedi Commander and her quickly unraveling husband across the galaxy and back to Dagary Minor.

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The Mandalorian line wasn't far ahead. He could hear the laser turrets as they fired repeatedly.

_So this is how it ends. Zana doesn't love me. She's a liar. A slag. She'll never be my wife, and she doesn't love me. I shouldn't have gotten attached. I should have just used her, the way she used me all that time. I wonder who he is. The one she's in love with. There must be someone else. Maybe it's Malak or Kavar. Hell, maybe it's Revan. Maybe it's her whole damn squad. It doesn't matter now. She won't have to look at me anymore, with her empty promises, her pity. I loved you, babe. I loved you more than I could ever tell you, and I always knew that you would push me away if I did. Slag. But I loved you. I still lov--_

Tren Dorn's body fell into the dust--among the bodies of soldiers and Jedi--touching no one, alone even in death--another casualty of the Mandalorian Wars. 

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On Dantooine, Master Vandar Tokare placed another stone on the ledge of a small fountain in his chambers. Eighteen stones lined the water, eighteen of his destined younglings and knights had rejoined the Force.

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**Three days later.**

**Aboard the **_**Starling**_**, bound for Dagary Minor.**

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"Ga…len? What are you doing here?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "I…" She tried to sit up, but fell back onto the bunk.

He stroked and held her weak hand. "Shh…don't…just stop…"

"What are you doing here?" It was more than a question this time--it was an accusation.

Letting go of her hand, he turned away, unable to look at her any longer. "I—I followed you, when I saw you sneaking away. I shielded myself…from you, so you would not notice. I...have...taken care of your…" He hesitated, a pained set in his shoulders. "…medical situation."

They sat in silence for many minutes. Finally, he asked, his voice an icy whisper: "Was it me?"

"What do you mean—" She didn't feel _right_. There was an emptiness burning away inside of her, but its source…

"Was it _me_ you were leaving? Why didn't you tell me?!" Malak still faced toward the cockpit. She felt him tremble beside her as sobs racked his body. "It was our child, Serena!! MY SON! And I didn't even know…" Screaming at her. "You killed our child! If _you_ did not want him, I would have taken him, I would have loved him! You never asked me, you never _told_ me! How dare you?!" He buried his face in his hands, defeated, unable to face her. The voices echoed in Malak's head, _She killed your child._

Revan let his words sink in, not able to comprehend; then, slowly, "no…No! NO! NO! NO! NONONO--" The link she had not known existed was gone, leaving behind a gnawing emptiness: she was no longer pregnant. She grabbed at her stomach. "--No, Galen, I didn't mean to…I thought I could save him, save _us_! I wanted to find—" She gasped as Malak turned to face her, anger and sadness clouding his eyes. Whispering, she willed him to believe her, "Galen, I never meant to hurt our baby."

Rolling to her side, putting her back to him, and pulling her knees to her chin, Revan tried to understand. She couldn't cry, though it was what she wanted most--no tears would come. "Our son, Galen…Sweet Force, what happened? I only wanted to save him, like Kae told me to, I didn't want anything to happen to him." Revan winced at the familiar _snap-hiss_ of a lightsaber being activated; she closed her eyes.

Malak stared at her back, "My son…" the only words that would come. He wanted to slash her in two. He wanted to beat her to a bloody pulp and then…himself. _She killed your child. She tried to leave you on Dagary while she did it. She killed your son, a tiny, helpless baby. She killed your child…_ Their chorused chanting wove patterns of betrayal in his mind.

Revan felt him start to leave and rolled over, "Please don't go. Galen, please?!" She was reaching out to him…

The voice wouldn't leave his head, so he extinguished his lightsaber, fled to the cockpit, and locked the door. The voices continued to taunt him, and he knew he wanted to believe them. But he heard her say it again--"Galen, I never meant to hurt our baby."--and he knew it was true. He wouldn't to hurt her; he needed to hold her, to tell her it would be okay. They became louder, more insistent--_Kill the woman. Like she did your child, your baby, your son! Embrace your anger, revel in it._—and he didn't dare leave the cockpit.

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Zana awoke to silence—Pristine. Perfect. Deafening. When she tried to open her eyes, the brightness of midday caused her to shut them again, automatically. Unable to do much else, she applied the Force to healing her wounds and went back to sleep.

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By the time they reached Dagary Minor and Camp Echo, Malak had made the decision not to tell anyone what had happened. He was exhausted and he didn't know what to think. At least the voices had finally fallen silent.

Mechanically, he helped Revan stand and walked her out of the ship, mostly supporting her weight. She was sluggish, and heavy in his weakened condition. Dropping her on the ground just inside the camp was all he could do before breaking down from fatigue and despair and retreating into a nearby tent.

Left to her own devices, Revan eventually found her strength and wandered away from Camp Echo, into the fields that rose above the capital city in the valley below. She tripped across the expanse of dead Republic soldiers, dead Jedi, dead Mandalorians, dead farmers, dead children. It reminded her of a dream she had so long ago. So much death when she only wanted to prevent it. So many sacrifices: from those around her, from her child, from her friends. She dropped to the ground beside one of the soldiers, his clouded blue eyes reflecting the clear sky, unseeing. Blood had dried as it trickled out of his nose and ears. Flies had already started their work, cultivating and seeding his gaping chest wound with future generations.

_Life emerging from so much death. _Was it the will of the Force? Some great destiny? Or had they broken their destinies by getting involved? Had they missed their chance to help people, to help the Republic?

Ripping her eyes away from his dead ones, she sensed Zana's sorrow across the field as her friend limped closer. Her clothes were covered in blood and dirt, she'd obviously been crying, and there was a burnt hole in the side of her tunic. Revan embraced her general. After a long silence, Revan asked, "Why don't **I** weep? Why can't I cry when I see so much death around me? Oh, Zana..." She paused, taking in the battlefield, her friend's wounds. "So much death. Are we the cause? They trust us. They follow us into battle; they follow you and Tren--"

"No, Serena." Zana gulped down a sob. "No, they won't be following Tren any longer..." She paused, unable to go on, breaking into fresh tears and saturating Revan with more sorrow.

"Tren...?" Revan sent out a tendril of Force, moving among the living soldiers in the capital ships and the ground troops in the valley below. Tren was gone. She felt her own lack of tears and the emptiness threatened to engulf her. She gripped her friend's hand as tightly as she had that night on her bunk, when she'd asked Zana to help her block her feelings for Malak. Then they sank to the ground, among the dead.

_Blast! When will it end? When will the toll on the galaxy in defense of the damned Republic stop its constant rise?_ Many had died because she and Malak hadn't been there; no one would convince her otherwise. _Will we continue to lose? Serroco, Eres III, Duros, and now Dagary…They were all slaughters. The small victories in between don't outweigh them, don't balance them out. We came to prevent this, but everyone underestimated the Mandalorians'…ferocity, their willingness to kill and be killed—_ A sound in the distance broke Revan's inner monologue. Her eyes came back into focus, seeing soldiers running across the field. They were bound for Camp Echo, and Revan guessed these were the last of the troops on Dagary Minor. They didn't see her or Zana sitting amongst the dead, ruined bodies of their comrades.

Tossing Zana's nearly catatonic body over her shoulder and using the Force to manage her extra weight and carry her own, Revan brought the small general into camp and placed her on a medical gurney. The medics assured her that they would get her to the _Victorious'_ medical facilities immediately. Zana just stared at the sky, an unblinking, unseeing gaze that worried Revan. She dismissed those worries, however, focusing on the gruesome task at hand.

Walking out into the bloody field once more, she sat down and opened herself to the Force. Then, she searched. Her mind was cycling through every dead Jedi on the field. It was excruciatingly slow because the Force could only detect the faintest echo of itself within their otherwise lifeless bodies. And what she and Zana--even Vedric, having lost Samosh months before--needed at that moment was a body to mourn. Unbidden, the thought of a beautiful child with brown eyes and a kind smile...she never got a proper goodbye...

A mental spark caught her attention and she followed it, across the field and down toward the valley. Tren lay alone, surrounded by fallen soldiers, but not touching any. The robes he always wore so handsomely were riddled with the distinct, ragged burns of turret fire. A defunct Mandalorian laser turret slumped in front of him, pointed at where he would have stood; it was obviously damaged by a lightsaber. Revan's eyes flicked to the lightsaber still attached to Tren's hip; he hadn't caused the damage. _It's as if he wanted to die. He didn't draw his weapon, most of the shots hit him in the chest..._ Halting this line of thinking, she carefully gathered him into her arms, again using the Force to lighten the load as she carried him back to Camp Echo.

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**Three weeks later.**

**Republic ship **_**Victorious**_**; in hyperspace.**

Tren was wrapped in red silk and tulle. Underneath the expensive fabric lay the mangled body of a friend, comrade, and lover. Zana was still wearing the tunic from the medical bay. She had spent the last few weeks staring at the ceiling, sedated, repeatedly whispering Tren's name and "I'm sorry..." She was temporarily released to Revan just before Tren's funeral, but now she stood, staring at his swaddled body, unresponsive and glassy-eyed. So, it was Revan who spoke for her friend.

"Tren. We commend your ashes to the black, your spirit having already rejoined the Force. From whence you came, you have returned." The words were formal and strained, but they were proper for the occasion. She pressed a round black button and the doors to the crematorium opened. Tren's body moved down a conveyer, and the doors creaked closed behind it. After a moment, a red light near the button flicked on. "Goodbye, old friend. May the Force be with you." Pressing the black button again, Revan watched as Tren's ashes floated out of the crematorium and into the stream of hyperspace. They were scattering him across a wide swath of galaxy, becoming part of something larger than himself.

Walking slowly down the corridor, followed closely by Vedric and Malak, Revan returned Zana to the medical bay. Instead of going back to the apartment wing, however, Revan neared the ship's cantina and abruptly turned. Getting drunk might not be the best answer, but it was what the three friends needed more than anything else at that moment.

Between his fourth and fifth drink, Malak leaned over and kissed Revan on the cheek. It was his first real acknowledgment of her since Malachor V and the _Starling_, weeks before, and the smile she gave him was warm enough to melt the icy planet of Hoth. If not "back to normal," they were at least "back together." For Revan, that was enough. However, after her tenth drink, feeling like she was walking _on_ the Telosian Sea, she had to giggle when Malak suggested they should return to their quarters. Leaving Vedric with a female ensign and weaving and tripping her way toward the door, she followed him to their apartment on the _Victorious_, both of them collapsing on the floor just inside.

They made love like it was the first time on the plains of Dantooine, taking comfort in the fact that they still had each other and a future after the war.


	11. Part 11

**Relatively speaking, the Duro Campaign was short: seven days of battling on the surface paired with fiery space combat. The Mandalorians sent wave after wave of Basilisk war droids to the surface of Duro only to find Jedi and Republic soldiers waiting for them. The encounters were bloody, but the casualties were mostly limited to soldiers. Commanders Dursa, Antilles, and Revan recalled the troops, however, when the likelihood of rescuing the planet proved too low. Commander Dursa was quoted as stating, "The Mandalorians just keep coming!" Civilian causalities were also high, and the Republic forces were increasingly discouraged. **

**Many smaller skirmishes on various planets followed Duro, about half ending in victory, further diminishing the Republic's cohesion between soldier, pilot, and Jedi. **

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**Four months after **_**For the Republic: Part 10**_

**Republic ship **_**Victorious**_**, docked at Taris, recently liberated by the Republic Army **

After losing her child, Revan fell into a quiet mourning--stealing private moments to stare out into space, reflecting on those children she hoped were in her future. As the months passed, the frequency of such thoughts grew longer; the thoughts, themselves, grew less hopeful. However, there were other disturbing changes in her that worried Malak. As the war dragged on, he often found Revan in a foul mood, argumentative and angry. He was never quite able to isolate the source of her frustration. Sometimes, it she was just as strangely happy and energetic. Neither felt true to him.

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"That's it. I can't take it anymore." Revan was packing food and medical supplies; it felt eerily familiar. Swallowing hard, she turned toward Malak, "So many planets have fallen. _I've had to choose_ which ones to give to the Mandalorians and which to defend. Dursa and Antilles have started deferring those decisions to me..._alone!_ I think it's because in their minds they equate 'Jedi' with 'infinite wisdom,' but that's just an excuse. They don't want to decide, and they know I'm willing to make a decision. So, all of those innocent people..." She sighed heavily. "I just can't do that anymore. It's time to win this damned war and go home. I'm going back to Malachor V—"

"What?!" Images of the trip, months ago, flashed through his mind and he grimaced.

"Look, there's something on that planet. Master Kae sent me there to find something, so I need to find it."

"What does Kae have to say for herself? Have you asked her why she sent you there in the first place?"

"I can't find her." She lied, but she didn't care. She wasn't ready to speak with her old master again. "And I need answers."

The unspoken question hung in the air between them.

Malak finally said: "I am going with you. Serena—"

"Somehow, I knew you'd say that." Her lips were quirked into a crooked little smile. "We're in this together, then." She caught herself just as she brushed her stomach with her fingers. Sorrow threatened to overcome her, but she pushed it back.

His mouth curled into a small smile, oblivious to her sudden discomfort. "I love you, Serena." He crossed the room and kissed her, gently. "Thanks."

She shrugged him off, urging him to get his things together. "We need to go before they make the jump to hyperspace." Revan sent a holovid to Zana's message box. She didn't know if her friend would forgive her, but she had to trust that Master Kae was right about Zana, and she had to hope. _As an ex-Jedi, I'm entitled to hope, now, aren't I?_

The pair stole into _The Starling_. As they departed, the _Victorious_ issued forth whining sirens that warned of the impending jump into hyperspace.

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Zana flopped onto the bed and closed her eyes. An incessant beeping in the corner of the room indicated that she had a holovid message, so against the protestations of her aching muscles, she climbed off the bed and hit the holovid display. A mechanical female voice issued forth, "One message from Jedi Commander Serena Revan. Audio and visual available. Would you like to watch it now?"

"Yeah."

Revan's voice filled her apartment, a blue full-size hologram standing nearby, "Zana, I guess I owe you an apology for what I'm about to say. You'll be leading the charge on Dxun. Galen and I have some…unfinished business that we need to take care of. I'll be back before the battle ends. I know the Mandalorians will be entrenched, and some will call it suicide attacking them on their own ground, but stick to the plan. You just need to trust me. With you leading the charge, we can't lose." The hologram paused to offer Zana a winning smile. "And don't worry about Onderon! Let General Vaklu take care of it, just focus on Dxun. When this war ends, I'm going to pay you back for all of the awful things that have happened, I promise. I love you, Zana; you're my best friend, my general. I'll find you when I get back. Good luck."

The hologram smiled again, then flickered and faded as Zana started to tremble. She felt the scream build up in her throat before finally forcing its way out: "How could you?! Serena! After all we've done...I've followed you everywhere, I've done everything you asked! I've lost Tren! I've lost Kavar! And now _you're_ abandoning us?!" She grabbed the holovid display and threw it against the wall. It smashed into shards of plastic and glass. But as it broke, so did her rage, leaving her hollow and drained.

She didn't bother to clean up the pieces. Instead, Zana wandered out of the room and down to the cantina. _Force knows, I need a stiff drink._

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Revan and Malak arrived at Malachor V on the third day of their journey from _Victorious_. _You have returned!_ The voice hissed inside their heads. Malak found himself wondering, _Have I gone mad?_

The air swirled with dark energy as they hiked, whispering and taunting. Revan was leading, "following _a feeling_," she said. _This way. Just over the next hill. Down into that valley._ The voice that guided her was metallic and disjointed. It faded in and out, and if she tried to concentrate on it, it disappeared completely. Her face was a perfect Jedi mask, nothing visible betrayed her emotions regarding Malachor V. But, the pain of her last visit quaked through her body with each step, the voices grasping at her from the dark side of the Force.

Topping a hill, one of many, they gasped at the sight below: A bridge, grander than anything seen on Coruscant's wide ped-ways, spread through the valley and reached up to a massive stone arch and double doors. The gray-white stone absorbed what meager light was available and it seemed to glow, setting it off against the dark energy of the planet. Revan immediately started hiking down the hill, and Malak felt compelled to follow.

_Yes, come to us. We will show you the way… to victory._ It was a hiss in their minds, and they exchanged glances before climbing the steps toward the doors. Malak had to ask, "Serena, what are they?"

"The voices? They are something…" How was she going to explain it without causing him to recoil immediately? She sighed in resignation. "…something from the dark side. I…I think I called upon it, the last time I was here. I felt our...son, he was calling out to me through the Force, and the pain was so unbearable--" She clenched her fists.

Malak felt he should say something, anything. His eyes flickered with shadow, and a shiver ran through his body. Something wasn't right. "It's okay, we should move on and get this done so we can get back to Dxun." Pushing the double doors wide, they entered the stone building. Their boots echoed on the polished floors. It reeked of darkness, death, and suffering; red lighting and gray stone enveloped them as the doors slammed shut. They both put their hands on the lightsabers hooked to their belts.

Revan followed the voice, and Malak followed Revan. The building was catacombed with twisting hallways, arches, doors. They passed through a prison block, an empty dining hall, seemingly endless corridors.

Suddenly, Malak's eyes grew large and round and Revan smiled at his excitement. He had smelled it--books, documents, dust, age. The voices spoke to Malak as he drew near, urging him to use the archives, as it was his right to do so. _My right…?_ His thought was cut short when he noticed a familiar looking console just inside the archway, similar to the consoles they found on Dantooine.

He was vaguely aware that Revan had wandered through an adjoining arch. The console responded to his touch, greeting him by name, and offering condolences on the loss of his child. Malak bit back his sudden anger. _How can a computer know all of this?_

"Answer: When you touched the panel, my circuitry aligned to your mental signature."

_You can read my mind?_

"Answer: That is a crude way of putting it, but, yes, it is one way of explaining the current situation."

_What information can I access from this terminal?_

"Answer: I have unlimited access to the information in this archive. Analog materials have been hologrammed and stored in my memory banks. What is it you wish to find?"

Malak considered for a moment. _Why do the Mandalorians avoid this planet?_

"Answer: The Sith. Is this information satisfactory?"

_The Sith? Here?_ He remembered the sheer amount of dark side energy they encountered during their trek. _Are there any Sith here now?_

"Answer: No. Is this information satisfactory?"

_But where did they go?_

"Answer: There are no longer any of the species known as 'Sith' in existence. They went extinct over 7,000 years ago. However, you do not seem interested in the species known as 'Sith'. The current use of the term 'Sith' refers to users of the 'dark side' of the 'Force'. By this definition, the last Sith to visit Trayus Academy was Darth Traya, five standard months ago. Is this information satisfactory?"

_Who built this place...Trayus Academy?_

"Answer: Trayus Academy is a Sith training facility built 5,327 years ago. It was commissioned by a previous Darth Traya, using technology stored on the Star Forge. Is this infor--?"

_Star Forge?_

"Answer: The Star Forge." A hologram appeared before Malak. "A weapon and factory hailed by the Rakata peoples as 'the glory of the Builders, the apex of their Infinite Empire' and 'a machine of invincible might, a tool of unstoppable conquest'. It has changed many hands over time, but is currently located near the planet of Lehon, also known as Rakata Prime, in the Unknown Regions of this galaxy. Is this information satisfactory?"

Something about the _Star Forge _sounded familiar. _...glory of the Builders...tool of unstoppable conquest..._ Malak's heart skipped a beat. _Do you know what this is?_ He imagined the 'star map' they had found in the temple on Dantooine.

"Answer: It is a component of the coordinate system for locating the Star Forge. It appears to be damaged, however. My files indicate that this damage was caused by the Rakata to prevent any sentients from finding and using the Star Forge after the Infinite Empire collapsed. Is this information satisfactory?" 

_Why did it collapse?_

"Answer: The Rakata are a warrior society. They conquered many worlds and reigned for thousands of years. However, 20,000 years ago, a sickness spread through the ranks, Rakata warriors killing one another in madness. They withdrew from the worlds they had conquered and the last of the Rakata are living on Lehon. I do not seem to have the coordinates for this planet."

"Conjecture: It is possible that gathering the coordinates from the damaged 'star maps', as you put it, would lead you to the Star Forge. The coordinates for each 'star map' are located in my memory bank. Is this information satisfactory?"

Malak downloaded the coordinates and continued to question the computer, learning the history of Trayus Academy, Malachor V, and the Sith, along with the Star Forge and the Rakata. His natural love of history kept him prodding, pressing the computer for more answers, and he really didn't think they could have too much information. 

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_This way. Quickly. Find what you are seeking._ The voices pulled Revan through Trayus Academy, deeper and farther away from Malak. _Hurry._ Reaching a green door, completely out of place among the gray stones and red lights of the academy, she stopped. _Go in_, the voice insisted. A cool wind whooshed out of the door as it was opened, bringing with it the smell of chantha herbs and kree berries...smells from childhood, nearly forgotten; before the Order, before the Hutt killed her parents. The room was small; it contained a desk, a dressing table, and--and--

Revan dropped to the ground. _Why are you showing me this?! Why? It isn't fair!_ A toddler peeked over the end of the crib; his eyes were brown and deep like wells, like his father's. He rubbed those eyes with balled fists and yawned, showing tiny teeth. The word "Travin" was delicately painted on the side of the crib. As Revan stood, she grew dizzy and grabbed the side of the crib. The illusion vanished. Previously white walls faded and grayed with decay, the dressing table was overturned, the desk nowhere to be seen, and the crib was smashed to splinters. She reached down and took a piece of the crib, the part with "Travin" written on it, and placed it inside her robes. "Why…"

The voices began again, _Hurry. So much to do. This way. Quickly._ Then, she was running out of the room, away from the destruction, away from Travin. Down the empty corridors, through atriums and sitting rooms, galleries, hydroponic gardens. She found herself at a dead end, the door in front of her was a cool blue. _Yes, go in, go in._ The voices insisted. The door slid open as she approached, revealing a study with empty bookshelves, a broken chair, and another sturdy desk. On the desk was a lump of clothing, balled up and tossed there in haste. _Take it, TAKE IT._ The voices were in a fury, compelling. She unfurled the clothes and a sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. Picking it up, Revan nearly dropped it again after reading it:

_I don't plead with fools. You are puppets of tradition pretending to be important. The coming Golden Age has no place for you. Your Republic is an empty self-indulgent diversion... signifying nothing. The lost glory of the Sith will turn all of your supposed accomplishments to dust._

I have developed a robe that will magnify my connection to the Force, increasing my power and protecting me from my enemies. There is nothing those sad Jedi can do to stop me. I will be invincible! No. Do I really want to go on like this? I sent Nomi away, and Cay, after all we've been through.

Ha! They are weak, and in their weakness for me I have found the chink in their armor. —Ulic Qel-Droma

It appeared to be a journal entry, ripped from its binding and shoved into the robes. An entry written by Ulic Qel-Droma! They had heard the story repeated from the time they were younglings. Ulic Qel-Droma, savior of the Order, wanted to infiltrate the forces of the dark side, stopping them from within. He failed and was taken by the dark side, killing his brother, and starting the Great Sith War alongside Exar Kun. It was against these forces that Kavar had fought, the reason his eyes were often shadowed when the war was mentioned. Qel-Droma was later redeemed, he taught Master Vima, if she remembered correctly.

_...a robe that will magnify my connection to the Force..._After a moment of indecision, and against her better judgment, Revan removed her own brown outer robes, transferred the splinter of crib from one to the other, and wrapped herself in Ulic's dark ones.

The world around her blurred and faded to black. _Stars and planets danced around the galaxy, rotating and moving on its orbits, a beautiful illustration of harmony in the universe. She felt at peace, floating in the vacuum of space._

Movement caught her eye, a dark cloud boiling at the border of the distant Unknown Regions. As the cloud moved closer, it engulfed whole planets, rolling over them, covering them in death and decay. The stars beneath the boiling darkness winked out, and in its wake there was nothing. A nearby battle of the Mandalorian and Republic fleets transformed into a graveyard of broken, dead ships floating through space. Revan's pulse flew as she watched the roiling cloud draw nearer. It surrounded her, the galaxy...The voices began chanting, _**Soon, soon, the time will come...the darkness...**___

Another shape drifted into view. Angles and corners, as if two pyramidals were placed end-to-end, so that it was wider at the center and narrow at the tips. It appeared to be made of stone, but she couldn't be sure. As it moved closer to the boiling black clouds, a fog of tiny ships and huge destroyers came rolling out of the stone shape. Revan's vision changed, she was standing in a room, and somehow she knew this room was inside the shape. The walls were black stone, and Malak was standing in front of the viewport across the room, Commander of the Star Forge. 

Her vision blurred again and Revan saw the study. Her head was swimming, but--_Thank the Force!_--the voices had stopped their incessant chanting. She felt dirty, drenched in the dark side and utterly unlike herself. "It's time to leave...Galen?!" She started calling his name as she wandered back the way she came.

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As he sat at the console, Malak was overtaken by the vision and slumped in his chair. He saw the dark cloud emerge from the Unknown Regions. He saw the Star Forge and its inexhaustible fleet of ships. Most of all, he saw himself, standing in the Star Forge with Revan, commanding its legions. The Star Forge was just as the computer told him--powerful, invincible. The voices promised, _With this, you can protect them._ And he found himself agreeing. The Star Forge was the key to protecting his family--his wife and their future children--and the Republic. 

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**Eight days later, Revan and Malak's arrival at Dxun**

**Day 6 of Second Battle of Dxun/Onderon, Mandalorian Base**

Revan and Malak didn't do much talking on the longer journey back to Dxun from Malachor V. With _The Starling_ firmly set in its hyperspace route, they slept, ate, and made love as often as possible. It had been six days of "personal time," as Revan called it.

Their discoveries within Trayus Academy had been amazing, yet horrifying. They both knew, now, that the current war was just the beginning; another darkness would soon descend on the galaxy. Their first goal after the war would be to find the Star Forge, to continue protecting the Republic.

However, none of that would matter if they couldn't land the _Starling_ on _Victorious_.

"Frack! What is that?!" Revan grabbed the nearest console and held tight as the ship pitched and yawed.

Mandalorian turret ships were firing on them as they approached; Malak was barely able to maneuver past them. Dodging left pushed the small Corellian freighter off course, into the gravitational pull of Dxun, and the _Starling_ crashed down in the jungle.

The comm unit began to buzz. Revan slapped a switch on the console, "Revan here, speak."

"Revan, this is Antilles, are you and Malak alright? We saw you crash to the surface. Do you need assistance?"

"We're fine, Alin," She glanced at Malak, who seemed eager to get moving. "Can you direct me to General Dex?"

"Well..." The commander's voice trailed off. _Oh, Force, what happened?_ "General Dex has been captured."

"Of all the kriffing luck..." She needed Zana, there was no other way. "And the battle?

"Underway." He didn't sound particularly confident.

"Understood, Commander. Revan, out."

Turning to Malak, Revan flashed a mischievous smile. "The Mandalorians need slaves, and we need Zana. Let's get ourselves caught."

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She spit in his face again and the Mandalorian just grabbed her harder. Zana had been a prisoner for nearly forty-eight hours, and every hour she refused to speak, refused to tell who she was, her position. 

She was running out of spit. And tears.

"You _osik_ eating...!" He slapped her across the mouth. "..._di'kutla_ Jedi!"

_Great…_ It was her last thought for a while, as the cursing Mandalorian smacked her again. Zana's head lolled and then she lost consciousness before realizing what had happened. It wasn't the first time since her capture.

"Kex, I have some more prisoners. More Jedi. Where do you want 'em?"

"Capturing Jedi instead of killing them." He shook his head. "We'll string 'em up here, next to their friend." Kex squinted at his fellow clansman. "Did you get their Jedi swords? Damn sneaky Jedi..."

"Uh...no, they were unarmed. Their ship crashed north of camp; turrets."

"Okay, fine, go. I'll see what I can find out. These Jedi aren't worth the effort, though." He slung his hand across Zana's unconscious face, flinging her head to the side. "Can't kill you...yet...But what honor is there in taking _you_ as prisoners?" He surveyed the other two Jedi: scared, whimpering weaklings. "Won't even make good slaves. Shabla! I could have been on the front lines, dying with honor! Instead, I'm part of this damned skeleton crew." He peered at the two silent Jedi. "It'll take a lot more than what your tired Republic has been throwing at us—Hey! Wait, where are your inhibitors?" Kex advanced on Revan.

"We don't need Force inhibitors."

He stumbled slightly. "You…don't need Force inhibitors."

Kex shook his head, spit on the floor, and slumped out of the building. Revan glanced at Malak, who had already started working on their cuffs. She closed her eyes as she sat cross legged on the floor and concentrated on the limp form hanging next to them, feet barely touching the ground. _Zana?_ No response. Revan sent a healing tendril of Force toward her friend and wrapped it tightly around her.

"I have found a way to remove the cuffs--I'll wait for your signal."

Revan smiled gratefully at Malak. "Good. They don't really seem to regard us as much, which means they don't really know _who _we are. If we wait, we're sure to see what these guys do to their weakling 'prisoners.'" She grimaced in disgust, then paused, catching Malak's eye and holding it. "How long has it been since I told you 'I love you'?"

He grinned at her, "You just did." He felt a rush of emotion: love, admiration, and…

As Revan went back to healing the battered general, Malak meditated. After a while, she saw his eyes open and go wide, heard his shallow breathing, the ridge of a stiff erection starting to become painfully obvious. "Galen!" It was a harsh whisper, louder than she had intended.

He shot her a look, "What?" his voice was rough and thick.

"What is the matter with you?!" Her eyes flicked to his obvious arousal. "Are you okay?" It was all she could think to ask.

"I'm fine!" He snapped. She decided not to split her concentration between Zana's healing and whatever was suddenly wrong with Malak. He could take care of himself, after all.

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As he meditated, he recalled the voices, the promises they made. He thought about the child they had lost because he didn't stop her. _I was on the ship. I watched her walk toward the ramp. I should have stopped her..._ With the Star Forge, he could save them all. _Serena, Zana, the Republic. I will be a hero! They will all thank me for coming here, for fighting, for finding the Star Forge. I'll be a hero..._ In that instant, something changed in Galen Malak. He felt it: a mental click, a jolting grind within his brain. _And then the glory! A hero's welcome, admiration, applause, women..._Women had never found him appealing. Too quiet...too _good_, he would later recall. Well, except Revan, but...He shook his head a few times to clear it. _No, she's the only one I need..._

"What is the matter with you?! Are you okay?" She interrupted his thoughts.

"I'm fine." The voices droned on about power, and Revan remained thankfully silent. _She is already jealous; but wait. Wait. Be patient and you will be rewarded. Play the part...for now. In the end, you will be the hero._ "yes..." he whispered.

"What'd you say?" _Be patient, the voices droned._ She looked worried.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. How is Zana? Will she be okay?" He tried to sound sincere, but he was thinking about Dantooine, the night in the temple, the power that coursed through his veins, through the Force as he..."No! I..."

"No? No, what? Galen, undo the cuffs so we can get out of here, _please_!" Her annoyance was palpable; apparently, he had missed her first request. Malak complied, quickly using the Force to cross wires inside the latching mechanisms, shorting the lock on each of his cuffs. He repeated the procedure, freeing Revan.

"C'mon, Serena, maybe he just likes the idea of one of you in stun cuffs? I didn't know you were into that, Galen!" Zana slurred, finally awake. She rocked in her own cuffs, suspended from the ceiling. "Aren't you gonna save me, too?" She gave a slight, lopsided smile, as her bottom lip and the left side of her face were swollen and turning an ugly shade of black-violet. Revan lifted her while Malak disabled the cuffs. They retrieved her lightsaber from a nearby locker, pulling their own from their robes--_'Jedi swords' indeed! At least that Mandalorian was a weak minded gitzka_. Insisting she could walk, Zana took up the rear position and the small group ventured into the jungle.

The Mandalorians were cautious. They didn't bring prisoners to the main camp; it was only a matter of time until one got loose and started wreaking havoc. They kept them in a storage building in the famously inhospitable jungle of Dxun. Aside from a few cannocks, however, the trip back to the _Starling_ was surprisingly uneventful, and Revan was rather more surprised when they arrived to find a tech--_a Zabrak?_--repairing the ship. He stood and saluted sharply as she approached.

"Bao-Dur, right?" Zana recognized him as one of her own. He nodded to her, his expression sober.

"Commander Revan, General Malak, General Dex; the ship is ready for takeoff. Commander Antilles sent me over to ensure you could return to _Victorious_ as quickly as possible." He averted his eyes to the ground. "We're losing Dxun, Commander."

Revan growled, "No! We won't lose Dxun or Onderon today. Come with me." She ran up the ramp to the cockpit, barely waiting for the ramp and doors to close. "Strap in, now!" Malak did as he was told. Again skipping the pre-flight checks, the ship rose into the air and above the canopy of the jungle. Just before they cleared the shared atmosphere of Onderon and Dxun, everything in the viewport began to shift to one side. She pulled hard to the left and the viewport shifted to the other side. "Repaired my...Shavit!" the _Starling_ started to nose dive, pointing back toward Dxun below.

Revan slapped the comm system, "_Victorious_, this is the _Starling_, dammit!"

The comm buzzed and hissed before..."Commander, I see you. Activating recovery protocol." The small freighter shifted hard and began drifting toward _Victorious_. 

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The _Starling_ lifted off of Dxun, and Zana watched it until it was just a spark in the far distance. Turning to Bao-Dur, she couldn't help but ask, "How bad is it?" It wasn't really necessary, though, because the emotions flowing off of the Zabrak were readily apparent.

"The troops are completely disarrayed, General. It's confusion and chaos back at Camp 2--that's where I've been, trying to get our turrets back online." He looked around, surveying their surroundings. "So. I guess we're in this together, now, General."

Zana couldn't help but smile. However, her countenance darkened as unbidden tears threatened to escape. She thought about the last time she was 'on the ground'. _He followed me to war..._ Sighing, Zana realized that memories weren't going to help her, even as she started to cry for Tren. She suddenly felt very small and prone in her Jedi robes, leather pants, and Republic-issued boots. 

Biting her lip and traipsing off into the jungle, she slung a glance back over her shoulder and Bao-Dur was right there behind her. "Let's get to that camp and see what we can do, soldier." 

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Revan stormed onto the bridge of the Republic ship. She did not plan on losing Dxun or Onderon. There was no question: they _wouldn't_ be lost. She paced in front of the wide viewport. It showed the air battle, as it played out in front of _Victorious_; sensor bots on the planet beamed images of the chaotic battle in the streets of Iziz; still more sensor bots patrolled the moon, sending images of Mandalorian and Republic troops locked in heated combat. "Commander Antilles, may I control the viewport?"

"Of course, Revan, go ahead."

She touched a button on the console and the tri-pane view zoomed to the feed from Dxun. Here and there, small pitched battles between handfuls of soldiers marked the screen. _No wonder..._ When she saw Zana and Bao-Dur emerge from the jungle, Revan pressed the comm link, "Zana, do you see it?"

The comm crackled before Zana replied, "Yeah, they need to regroup. They're spread way too thin. I'm on it." She and Bao-Dur were running with Force speed down a hill as she spoke, toward Camp 2, stopping along the way to castigate the remaining Mandalorians in the area.

"I'll put out the order. You just get to Camp 2. "

"Okay, Commander." Zana reverted to a formal tone in the field. The gathered troops on the bridge watched the young general with admiration. _And love, of course. They can't help it, can they?_ The venom of the thought surprised Revan.

She watched Zana with her own admiration; she didn't sense any fear or hesitation through the link to her friend. _Kavar would be proud...and Tren._ She activated the comm frequency used to link the commander on Dxun with the ships above. "Commander Revan to Commander Dursa, do you hear me, John?" Static. After a long pause, Revan tried again. "Dammit, Dursa, where are you?!" She closed her eyes and reached out with the Force, only to recoil seconds later. "He's dead. Frack!"

She turned to Commander Antilles. "Alin, I'm taking over. I have plenty of respect for you; I _like_ you. But, those are my friends down there, soldiers I've fought beside, Jedi I am responsible for being here in the first place. We're going to take Dxun." Her voice turned hard, full of determination and the Force. " We're going to take Dxun., and then we're going to Malachor V to end this war. But you will do it my way, starting now."

A murmur traveled around the bridge.

He looked like he would protest, but when Revan released her anger at his hesitation, Antilles' face turned grim and he merely nodded.

Revan activated the open frequency, so that all of the troops on Dxun would hear her. "Pull back, PULL BACK! Get back to Camp 2. Regroup. This is Commander Revan; General Dex is in charge of ground ops." More static, but she knew they had heard.

After an hour of pacing and mumbling, the comm buzzed to life, "We're ready, Commander Revan." Zana's voice filled the bridge. "What's your plan?"

"Keep everyone together. Form a wedge and attack each pocket of Mandalorians with your full contingent. Got it? No splitting up." She flicked a glance at Malak, who was watching her intently, and grimaced. He smiled; a slight, thin lipped, tight smile. "They won't give you any mercy, so you don't give them any, either. No surrender. No quarter."

"Understood. Dex o--"

"Wait! Zana! Be careful, okay? We still need you! I _need _you to get back up here. Alive."

"Don't worry, Serena. Dex out." The sensor droid on Dxun followed Zana as she pulled the remnants of the Republic forces into some kind of order. Revan watched from the bridge of _Victorious_, amazed at the level of obedience her friend unknowingly commanded.

Zana's violet lightsaber ignited, as did many others within the taskforce, and they charged.

The Republic soldiers were running, hatred and anger boiling in their eyes, radiating off of them, fueling their movements; even Revan could detect their madness from her position in space. It would be a suicide mission for most of them, but their blood lust needed answering.

She felt something stir within her, and she again glanced at Malak. He was watching the viewscreen, mouth slightly open, eyes half-lidded, his breathing shallow. Revan called on the Force to aid the charging soldiers, urged it toward them. _Kill those bastards!_ The Force surged through her veins, their veins, and each soldier felt a burst of ferocity unmatched by their Mandalorian adversaries. 

She stood in awe as she watched Zana's army destroy the Mandalorians who stood in their way. Mandalorian brutality and finality had fascinated Revan, but now the Republic army cut them down with their own easy brutality, continuing along the path set forth by their commander, following their general. And she knew it now: they would go with her to the Star Forge. They would fight for her to protect the Republic against the coming threat. With Zana to lead them, and Revan to direct the offensive, this war would soon be over, and then the real battle could begin.

Occasionally, Revan would direct a renewed shock of Force power toward the soldiers, increasing their blood-thirst, driving them forward. It was on the fourth such direction that she finally realized what she was doing. In her anger, in her rage, Revan had called on the darkness--the piece of the dark side she had grasped when she stepped onto the ramp of the _Starling_ on Malachor V…the day she lost… She had called out when the pain hit and the Force responded, sparking a smoldering ember of that darkness within, waiting to be fanned by the anger of battle. And she had injected it into the remaining soldiers, Jedi…Malak...Zana.

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Zana cut down her enemies, removing limbs, removing heads. One thought blazed in her mind: _Tren_. She was taking her revenge; and the others followed Zana, a dark wedge of venom and hatred. _I'm not just doing it for myself...so much pain...so much death...Force! I still feel each one..._

For months, Zana had disconnected from those around her. She didn't actually feel Tren's death, or the death of Commander Dursa, or the deaths at Eres III or Duro. She didn't want to feel them, so she blocked them out. Now, her connection to the Force grew wide and pushed all of the suffering and death into her heart. It was laid bare. Each 'saber strike striking a painful chord within Zana's chest, as she dropped another Mandalorian corpse.

She felt another surge in the Force. _Revan..._ Zana's grip on her lightsaber tightened as her lips spread into a nasty sneer. She latched onto the pain and anger around her, directing it all against the enemy, as she Force pushed three Mandalorians approaching the small group. The newfound ferocity of the troops surprised her; they were on the men before they could stand. _Nothing can stop us._

The wave of rage that was Zana's army rolled over the Mandalorian compound killing most of them, not bothering to pursue those who fled. Those who didn't flee, the Jedi stripped of their armor--stripping their honor--forcing the Mandalorians to beg for their lives, beg for the pain to end as lightsabers grazed and burned their backs, their faces, their buttocks, their groins. Torturing and murdering prisoners wasn't the Jedi way, but Zana didn't care. She thought only of Tren dying alone. Of Kavar, whose eyes spoke volumes of suffering and loss. Of herself and her own sacrifice: innocence. She slid her lightsaber down through the bare foot of the man in front of her, the crackling flesh barely audible above his scream. _It's what you deserve…_

When it did end, there weren't many in her small army who felt any better. _What did you do to us...Revan..._ She closed her eyes, trying to think, to concentrate; searching the Force, Zana felt only _Revan_. Barely a pained remnant of her friend, _Serena_, remained. The weight of it all consumed her; Zana dropped to the ground and wept, finally releasing much of the pain and regret that Kavar had feared would destroy her. Bao-Dur knelt down beside his general, and held her while she cried.

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Revan watched as the Republic soldiers maimed and slaughtered their Mandalorian counterparts; as Jedi fought with vicious violence. It was the Jedi that bothered her the most. She was watching them fall to the dark side, and couldn't stop it.

Wouldn't stop it.

She cleared her mind of thought and focused. _If we take Dxun--and we will--we move on to Malachor V, meet their fleet and crush them. It will be on our terms._ She grimaced at the thought of returning to that Force-forsaken planet. _When it's over, that's only the beginning. We need the damn Star Forge that Galen was rambling about; that should be the next goal..._ Revan imagined the suffering yet to come, the necessary deaths, but hardened her heart. _It's for their own good--to save them. With the Star Forge we can protect the Republic._ A small part of Revan's mind recoiled from these thoughts. It walled itself away, hidden beneath the layers of anger and hatred so recently cultivated; protected for the time being. "Serena" fell away into darkness, while only "Revan" remained.

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"Serena...?" The voice over the comm link was tremulous, unsure.

"Not now, Zana. I know...but not now." There was a distinct edge to her friend's voice and Zana couldn't help but take a step backward, repulsed by what she saw when she probed Revan through their tenuous bond. Revan, who was radiating all of the cold emptiness of the dark side, banishing the light from the bridge and everyone on it. She dipped into the bond, only to find it was less of a "thread" leading straight to Revan and more of a "smudge" in her general direction, a bloody blur. She couldn't detect anything through it as she had on Dantooine and throughout the war. She was blocked.

_What's happening to us?_


	12. Part 12

**Direct continuation from **_**For the Republic: Part 11**_

**Aftermath, Second Battle of Dxun**

Transports dropped out of the sky like Basilisk war mounts, and General Dex's small army visibly flinched. Prominent Republic markings reassured them that they really were being taken off of Dxun, the horrid jungle moon with all of its horrid memories.

An involuntary shiver ran down Zana's spine. She and Bao-Dur had huddled on the ground outside the Mandalorian encampment for hours. Crying, retching, shaking. He held her while she cried, and held her hair when she was sick on the gravelly road where they slumped. She wouldn't be able to sleep for a very long time. The faces--the men she tortured to death—appeared in her dreams every time she closed her eyes. At least, Bao-Dur...

_Bao-Dur._ The quirk of a smile tried to rise on her lips, but it was still too soon after…the battle. He was a reliable engineer; she vaguely remembered him working on some machines for her prior to the battle on Dxun. But, after the fighting was over and "The General" was reduced to red faced tears and wobbly legs, he had been something else: a friend. Now he was back among the roughly two hundred soldiers and Jedi, milling about, loading the transports, recovering from wounds.

It was nice to think she had a friend. Every time Zana thought of facing Revan, her terror returned. _Revan injected us with the dark side._ She couldn't bring herself to call that monster _Serena_. She thought back to the Manda encampment, being in cuffs. They didn't know she was awake, that she had seen the manic look on Malak's face while he meditated. The emotions rolling off him had been stifling. 

Zana realized she was scared of her frien--

"General, it's time for you to go, now. Commander Revan is asking for you." Interrupting her line of thought, a lieutenant took her by the elbow, directing her toward the nearby shuttle. She put up a rudimentary struggle before resigning herself to the lieutenant's guidance. Soldiers with blaster wounds and missing limbs (_Wait, did a lightsaber do that?_), some out of their minds, surrounded the transports. When the general was pushed through the circle, men and women clapped and waved. She made a basic effort of waving back, a mechanical smile, reaching deep for the "Jedi calm" she'd so long forgotten.

Zana recognized her own detached reactions as shock, and realized she wasn't ready to face Revan, not like this. On the shuttle back to _Victorious_, she _persuaded _the lieutenant to give her a sedative, pressing him with the Force. He agreed, and finally, as they neared the docking bay, Zana slipped into a deep sleep.

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**Revan decided to take her time getting to Malachor V. There were things to be done, first, and everyone needed rest.**

Three weeks away from Malachor V.

"So, do you still think you can do it?" Revan looked expectantly at Bao-Dur. The Zabrak was the thoughtful type, considering each word, his Iridonian features unreadable. Zana had suggested him over a month before--and Revan was pleased.

"Of course, Commander. It is already started and it will be complete before we reach Malachor V," he replied confidently.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. General Dex assured me that you were up for the job, and I see that she was right. You do a great service to the Republic."

"That is my goal, Commander." He stood quietly and left the conference room. Revan laughed softly to herself, _That's not your goal. You are very eager to kill Mandalorians, young Zabrak, aren't you? You need revenge, and that's just the kind of attitude I need for this...project._

Revan paced for the better part of an hour. Her mind, finely tuned by Kae and Kavar, was working out the details for her secret weapon. The loss of life could be incredible, but it _would_ end the war. Currently, she was deciding the best way in which to _keep_ it a secret.

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**Zana.**

_Serena and Galen were whispering in a corner of the cafe. For some reason, she and Tren were across the room, at their own table for two. Zana didn't even remember the cafe at the enclave having tables for two. Watching Tren, as he watched Serena and Galen, she saw his face was streaked with spent tears, his exposed skin bore the scars of the laser turrets that ended his life. "What are we doing here? Is this a dream?"_

"Nah, it's a fantasy…mine!" He grinned his dopey grin, the one that always made her smile, but then his expression turned serious. "Okay, really. Listen. I only have a little time. This is where it gets harder, Zana. This is where things change. You don't want 'em to change, but they will. You'll need to be strong, stick to what ya are, who ya are. Because it's gonna get much worse before it gets better." He squinted, then grinned again. "And it _**will**__ get better. There's happiness for you in the end. Promise. Just be patient, okay?" Zana's eyes flicked to the couple across the cafe. Tren winked at her, "Yeah, at least you already have a clue. You were always sharp, huh?"_

She fingered the thin chain and jeweled ring hanging at her neck. She never actually wore it like this, just kept in her room on Victorious_--it was the Alderaanian ring he'd wanted to give her on Telos. __**Revan found it...on his...**__ Tears threatened to overwhelm. "Tren, how--"_

"Unh-uh, not really me. I think it's the Force--hell if I know. I'm just the guise; your mind provided the personality. But if that's what it takes to convince you, I think he'd be happy about it."

Zana nodded. She wanted to cry, suddenly face-to-face with Tren after sending him to his death.

Tren smiled gently, "You didn't send him to his death; I think you know that, deep down. He was head-over-heels, over-the-top, flat-on-his-back in love with you. You can't blame yourself for not lovin' him back."

Astonished, she realized it was true. She hadn't really loved Tren, though she had tried, told him she did, wanted to. "Be at peace with him. It's not Tren you need to worry about." He turned his gaze back to Revan and Malak, "Those two have gotten scary..." Revan suddenly looked at him--an even, level glare. She raised an eyebrow, and then turned back to Malak.

Abruptly, Tren stood, took Zana's hand, and lifted her out of her seat. She heard Revan laugh loudly in the room behind them as they walked out of the cafe and through the enclave, garnering disapproving looks from various masters and knowing grins from the other students. In Zana's bedchamber, he took her in his arms and held her close...kissed her...then, again, still deeper...lowered her onto the bed, his lean body stretched out over hers...

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**Malak.**

_He wandered the jungles of Dxun for hours. Searching. The halls of the ship. Searching. He followed the voice--__**This way!**__--as he had on Malachor V. Unsure of what, exactly, he would find. When he entered their apartment, she was already lying on the bed waiting for him. It had been days since they made love and he kissed her gently...undressed her slowly, patiently...groped at her soft, round breasts...crawled up Revan's body...tried to remember the last time he had been this happy as she sighed and grasped him closer to her..._

Malak's eyes suddenly opened and he stopped moving. Looking down at the girl below him, her eyes still tightly shut, he gasped. _Zana!_

The voice screamed through his head, _You must take what is rightfully yours! She wants you; take it!_

The unperceivable bond between them--cultured as friendship since Dantooine--stretched, snaking through his head. Like her soldiers, who often stared moon-eyed at their unassuming general and would follow her to their deaths, Malak, too, was pulled inexplicably toward Zana. _I...no..._

He saw the opportunity to turn back. The tenuous bond released him, and he could stand and leave, go back to his apartment, remedy his arousal alone, and find Revan.

His hesitation was the answer--perhaps he'd always wanted her. He leaned over and kissed Zana's lips, gently. She pressed herself against him, pulling him down to her, never opening her eyes. And, Malak _chose_; he felt his need, his desire, awaken in a way that it hadn't with Revan since their wedding night.

Malak broke the kiss and a lascivious grin spread across his face. He leaned into Zana's warm body, relinquishing yet another small piece of himself to the will of the voices... 

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Revan had waited long enough for Zana, she was growing impatient. The bridge was mostly empty: Commander Antilles had retired to bed, Malak was asleep, Zana was Force-knows-where. She grabbed the sleeve of a passing lieutenant, "Do you know where I can find General Dex?" She hated the way her voice came out strained and hoarse.

He was afraid; it emanated off of him in waves. "Uh, I actually asked that myself, a few minutes ago. She's in her room having been, uh, given a-another sedative at her, uh, request." Revan released the lieutenant and turned on her heel. She needed to speak to Zana, make sure she understood that _...everything is okay. I still follow the light, despite what she felt on Dxun._ The very idea that she needed to prove anything was bothersome, but her friend was worth it.

At Zana's door, Revan activated the opening mechanism without knocking. If she was still asleep, Revan could always come back later; it was important, but not urgent enough to wake her. As she stepped into Zana's apartment and peeked around the corner, nothing could have prepared her for _...the...the...betrayal..._ she witnessed. _...no..._

Zana sighed as Malak moved his naked body over her again and again. Their breathing was shallow and harsh, skin glistening with sweat, building rapidly toward ecstasy. Time slowed for Revan; she couldn't turn away fast enough. She watched as Malak grabbed Zana's hair, pulled her head back at a sharp angle, and pressed his mouth to her ear, her neck, her shoulder. She wrapped her legs around him as she and Revan let out simultaneous moans: Zana's filled with pleasure and Revan's filled with despair. The two lovers stopped, frozen, staring. 

"Zana! Revan!...No! NO!" Malak pulled back from Zana just as Revan placed the girl in stasis and Force-pushed Malak, knocking him back against a wall. As he stumbled to standing and groped for his clothing, she placed him in stasis, as well, igniting her lightsaber.

Her voice was acid, sour and poisonous, "I won't ask what you were doing--it was damned obvious! But I'd like to know why? I mean, I guess that should be pretty fracking obvious, too, from the way you were..." She felt nauseated and dizzy at the thought.

Recovering, Revan moved her lightsaber very near to Malak's neck. He could feel the heat of the thing, its violet blade casting shadows, demons on the walls around him. "Why...with _her_?" She sent a chair flying, crashing it into Zana's frozen body. "You. Kavar. Tren. Half our troops. Everyone's enamored with the little _schutta_. Are there any more, Galen? Any more fetching young girls? Or just my _best friend_?"

The stasis fields wore off, but Malak stood stiff, unmoving. He ventured a quiet answer, "I thought...I thought it was you--" It was a half-truth, Revan knew. She backed away as another chair flew, smashing into his chest.

"YOU THOUGHT IT WAS ME?!" Revan shrieked, "ME?! How dare you use that excuse!"

"No, I was dreaming, Serena...I was dreaming and...and I came into our apartment...and you were there...and we made love...and then it was Zana, and the…" A third chair flew, only Malak was ready and avoided it.

"Is that what you call what you were doing? _Making love_? Were you _making love_ to _Zana_?" The name coming out as a hiss. Revan turned her attention to Zana, who was cowering on the bed wrapped in a sheet. "What about you, _slag_?! _Schutta_?! What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Revan...Serena...the-the dark side...you've..." She couldn't complete her thought; the dark aura around Revan was interfering.

"...fallen to the dark side? Is that what you were going to say? Without it, we would have lost Dxun! To fall is to lose control, and I haven't done that…yet. I know exactly what I'm doing.

Revan strode over to Zana and grabbed her hand, yanking her former friend out of the bed, naked. Zana's pale, bare feet slipped along the floor as she tried to escape the strong grip. "How dare you!?" Revan roared, as she shoved her into the metal desk in the corner of the room. Revan radiated triumph. It felt wonderful to finally accept that she was flawed, that she felt anger, betrayal, sorrow, and not try to hide them within the safe placidity of the Jedi countenance. 

"No! Revan! No, stop! Serena! Oh, Force! Stop!" Zana was hysterical, near madness.

Revan placed the girl's left hand flat on the desk and held it still, slowly, precisely moving the lightsaber. _Closer. Very nearly there._ Zana's face contorted with pain as the last joint of her smallest finger was sliced from her hand. The fire raged up her arm and after only a few seconds of screaming, she lost consciousness and sank to the floor.

Malak, on the other hand, was not so lucky. 

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She was more than angry. Revan's darkness banished the light out of the room, out of Malak. "I thought it was you--" It was impossible to dodge the chair she flung at him. As it smashed into his chest, it hit with all of the rage and hate she was feeling. She held her lightsaber to his throat and he waited for the killing stroke that never came. Ducking under the next chair, he watched in horror as she grabbed Zana. He knew he should try and stop her, but she wasn't beyond killing them both if he pushed her too hard. 

_Beautiful Zana…I hadn't noticed it before…Blast! What have I done?!_

The smell of burned flesh was nauseating, and he ran to the refresher, vomiting violently. He glanced at the outer door, thinking he might be able to sneak away. "She'll find me," he muttered, "and she's never going to understand this."

He didn't understand it fully, himself. One minute he was making love to Revan, he blinked, and it was Zana. And, yet, he still hadn't stopped himself. He grimaced at the thought of how much he still wanted her. _The voice. That damnable voice._

Instead of running, Malak walked calmly back into the apartment. "Serena..." She was a crumpled mess, kneeling on the floor, crying, raw faced and defeated. Zana lay unconscious across the room. "Oh, Serena..." He rushed to his wife, wrapping his arms around her, stroking her hair, kissing her head. His own tears escaping down his cheeks. "How can I explain?"

She did it before he had time to blink. 

In one swift movement, Revan jumped away, ignited her 'saber, and struck Malak across the face in a perfect arc. As the pain engulfed him, she placed him in stasis. Malak found that he was unable to scream and, to his horror, he remained cognizant. Revan was keeping him awake through the Force, ensuring he would feel the pain, unable to escape into unconsciousness. _Why can't I scream? Force! Why am I alive?!_ The extent of the damage unknown, and Revan clearly undone, Malak suffered in silence...

And he watched Revan suffer, too; her face drawn and distorted, pale beyond imagining, tears rolled down her cheeks. As the pain wore away his ebbing thoughts, a deeper primal impulse emerged—a pure, vital hatred—and with it, a ripple in the Force. Each of Revan's Jedi felt it as it surged rolled their minds. It was only a small thing, a vague feeling of disease for some. Even a few Force-sensitive soldiers noticed…_something_. None were aware of the infection they now carried, the insidious change they spread, moving around their Republic ships.

After many minutes--which seemed as years to Malak--she released him and shoved him back onto the bed. She touched his bald head, trailing her fingertips across his forehead and temple. "Malak, you have paid the price." She turned away from him, dragging her hand down his face and chest. Her voice was flat and emotionless, "When you report to the medical bay, you will tell them it was a training accident. For her sake, she will do the same.

"You are my husband, and you are both my generals. I expect your complete loyalty in the future; I will not tolerate less." He lay, unmoving, as Revan stormed out of the room, kicking Zana in the side on her way out the door.

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**Two weeks after Malak and Zana's..."training accidents."**

**One week until the Republic fleet arrives at Malachor V.**

In the weeks following their _accidents_, both Malak and Zana had eventually come back to Revan. She knew they would. Malak loved her, and she suspected he even harbored some unconscious hope for revenge. And Zana...she would see the good in people, even as they stabbed her in the back--Zana wanted to _save_ Revan.

A grudging peace had been adopted.

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Revan and Zana waited in silence for Malak to arrive. The palpable tension in the spartan conference room resonated as ripples and sparks within the Force, assaulting Zana's mind. This proximity to Revan was dangerous, and it took all of her will to remain. As the door slid open and Malak stepped through, Revan cooed, "Hello, my love." Her sardonic smile was not lost on either of them.

"What do you want, Revan?" Malak's derisive voice issued, mechanically, from a vocabulator beneath a new metal shield. The shield covered his face, from just below the nose to the chin, and behind that shield...was nothing. Nothing, except the vocabulator and his feeding tube--the price for crossing Revan.

Zana took note of Malak's emotions: anger, fear, defeat, jealousy_…and love. The…the fool. How can he still be in love with her after the things she's done! How could anyone love someone…no, some__**thing**__…like that?_ She took care to guard her thoughts from Revan, desperate to avoid renewed pain.

Over the ensuing days, Zana had lost much of her jovial spirit and good nature. Now, her eyes were cold durasteel, hard and unyielding. Glancing down instinctively to her hand, the former location of its missing joint, Zana shook her head. _It doesn't matter. None of it does, really, as long as we end this war._ She clung to that purpose; using it to hold her fear and anger at bay for a little longer.

Revan appraised them both momentarily before continuing. Her eyes were tinged yellow, unnatural and disturbing. Zana was sure that she could read their minds, the way her gaze settled on them each in turn. "Zana, there will be a scouting party going to Malachor V in a few days. You and Bao-Dur will accompany them. We have a weapon which, I believe, will destroy the Mandalorian fleet once and for all. Bao-Dur will plant it on Malachor V, and then you will return to the ship. Simple." Revan gave a small, fake smile, fixing her once-green eyes on Zana, who nodded slightly.

"Good." Revan managed to drag the word out until it sounded dirty.

Turning her attention to Malak, Revan asked, "Have you been faithful to me, Malak?" Her voice sickening-sweet.

He answered a terse, "Yes," and turned away toward a viewport, looking out into open space.

Revan smirked, then straightened her expression into a fake frown. "Fine. If that's how you want it, fine. I love you, Malak, but...I'm trying..." She trailed off. Zana could feel his resolve waver as his shoulders fell and he turned back toward the two. She bolted for the door. Unable to stay in the same room with her any longer, unable to watch Malak's obvious misery, she begged off, excusing herself without waiting for Revan's consent.

Zana ran straight to her apartment. Collapsing on the bunk, she closed her eyes, giving in to her exhaustion, willing herself to sleep…

_It was a bright, clear day on Dantooine; the kind of day on which the view seems to stretch forever. Zana was sitting cross-legged on the ground, watching her friend practice lightsaber forms. "Serena, where did you find __**your**__ crystal?"_

"I didn't. Loren gave it to me. He found it on Yavin during the war. I wouldn't ask him about it, though--you don't want a melancholy master on your hands." Serena smiled warmly and went back to adjusting her lightsaber, taking a few practice swings.

"So there's no way I can _**find**__ one? I just don't feel like green, yellow, or blue are...__**me**__."_

"No. Sorry." She noticed Zana's disappointment as she switched forms again. "Yavin's _**it**__, and it's not likely that Loren's going back there to get you one--he wouldn't let __**you**__ go there, either, so don't get any ideas. It was the Sith stronghold of Exar Kun. It was __**bad**__ for him, Zana, and he won't talk about it."_

"Then, I won't ask. I hate it when he gets so sad looking." Zana stopped speaking, imaging Kavar's face when someone mentioned the war: furrowed brow, glassy eyes, small crooked frown. Then she remembered something else she wanted to ask, "Why do you call him by his first name? _**No one**__ else does, not even the other masters. I've always meant to ask..."_

Serena grimaced for only a moment before returning to a Jedi-calm facade. She stopped practicing, wiping her brow with a cloth, and said, "That's...a long story. He saved my life before I came to the enclave, when I knew him as 'Loren,' and it's what I've always called him. Of course, when I become a knight, he'll be 'Master Kavar' to me, too."

She sighed heavily and looked at Zana. "Maybe I'll tell you the rest some other time, but let's not ruin today. He asked me to spar with him later, do you wanna come? He'll have a real challenge against both of us." The younger girl's face flushed at the thought of Master Kavar, half-stripped and sweating, lightsabers flashing. "Mind what you're thinking. Your face gives you away, you know..." Serena already sounded like a Jedi Knight.

Zana looked down, repeating the Jedi Code. At thirteen years old, it was getting harder to control her emotions. Kavar had explained that it was something to do with hormones and biology, but she hadn't been able to focus enough to really pay attention.

Serena patted her on the shoulder. "It's okay to have those thoughts; it's natural. You just need to practice controlling them, and fast. Loren thinks you're too attached to him. He's even spoken of giving you to another master--"

Zana sobered at the idea. "Why would he--"

"--because he's afraid, Zana! Such unrequited attachment can lead to the dark side. He only wants what's best for you." The two girls started walking back toward the enclave, arm-in-arm, silently enjoying the good company. "You know, he gave me to Master Kae so that he could be available when you came of age. He said there was something special in you, and it was the will of the Force. It's been four years since you became his padawan and, while I was angry at first, now I think he was right." 

"Serena? C-could you ask him _**not**__ to stop being my master? I promise to work hard and learn to control my emotions better. And…could you ask him if he has just __**one**__ more crystal? He might have, you know, a little one or something. Your violet 'saber is so beautiful, and when I watch you, it just seems __**right**__ for me, too."_

Abruptly, Serena stopped and sat down on the ground. She opened her lightsaber carefully, removed the violet corusca crystal, and handed it to Zana. "He's _**your**__ master, now. I think __**you**__ should have it. And, if it feels __**right**__, maybe it's the will of the Force, after all."_

Zana tried to hand it back to her friend, but Serena had already stood and was waiting for her a few steps away. "I can't...I can't take your crystal!" It was warm and sharp in her hand.

"Don't worry; I'll use my green one until Master Kae decides to take a trip to Yavin. She's mentioned it before, and maybe, if I show interest, she'll take me, too."

Zana knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help it--she grabbed Serena, hugging her. "Thank you so much! I mean...you just don't...I...thank you, Serena!" 

Continuing toward the enclave, she had one final question for her friend: "We'll be best friends forever, right?"

Serena smiled over at the young girl. "Of course, we will, silly. And, when I'm a knight and I leave the enclave, I'll write you every week. And you'll have Loren, too, of course." Zana joined in her smile as they entered the atrium. "Everything will be fine."

According to the chrono, she'd been asleep for three hours. It was midday and the UV lamps were at maximum. Zana rubbed her hands over her eyes, shaking her head at the dreamed memory, and mechanically pressed a code into her comm unit. Bao-Dur's soft, atonal voice answered, "Yes, General?"

"Bao, I need to ask you some questions about your...special project. Please stop by my quarters tonight, after dinner." If they were going to Malachor V, she wanted to be as prepared as possible. Failure wasn't an option.

For the tenth time that day, Zana glanced at her mangled finger. _It's a finger. No need to worry about it. No real harm done._ It was her new mantra. She sat on the metal floor of her apartment, crossed her legs, and began to meditate, keeping her thoughts off of friends, lovers, and the pain they can cause.


	13. Part 13

_Author's Note: 'Ioz noy jitat' is a Zabrak curse denouncing one's enemies._

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**Four days after **_**For the Republic: Part 12**_

**20 hours before the Republic Fleet's arrival at Malachor V.**

Bao-Dur, Zana, and six Republic soldiers made the solemn shuttle ride to the surface of Malachor V, each lost in his own inner dialog. Revan's only advice had been, "Don't lose yourself." _What could she mean?_

The words had burned in Zana's mind all day. She glanced down at her shortened finger. Instead of the melancholy she was feeling, she'd expected to feel rage. _I'm not sure what happened that day; are any of us? Was it Malachor V? Or was it Dxun? She seems…so…cruel._ A single tear rolled down Zana's cheek and she shivered at the memory of the dark power surging through her as she cut down every Mandalorian in her path on Dxun, as she tortured and killed the survivors. It brought to mind the darkness radiating off of Revan as she raged that night in Zana's apartment. The darkness she sensed in Malak during their imprisonment by the Mandalorians. _What's happening to my friends?_

Zana tried to stifle a small cry as Tren's face appeared in her mind and said, _This is where it gets harder._ Zana thought that, now, she knew what the dream-Tren had meant.

At the edge of her consciousness, a flicker in the Force..._What?_ She looked around the cramped shuttle. _There's nothing..._ She shook her head to clear it, rubbing her hands over her face.

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Bao-Dur was a combination of tightly wound nerves and parental pride. His weapon was going to win the war for the Republic and bring his revenge against the Mandalorian conquerors! He termed it a "mass shadow generator" for its use of Malachor V's own unique physical properties to create a massive gravity well. When activated, it would suck the Mandalorian fleet down to the dying planet, ripping and crushing their hulls. It wouldn't be a pretty death, but Bao-Dur wasn't concerned about the comfort level of the dying Mandalorians. _They will pay for the attacks on our colonies. Ioz noy jitat. Bastards._

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Five of the soldiers in uniform sat nearby, stoic as they waited for their sixth companion to land the small craft. They weren't interested in the cargo, its destination, or its function. They had a job to do: protect the general and the Iridonian. For the Republic. For Commander Revan, who saved them from defeat and soon would end the war.

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Observing from a corner of the small shuttle, a seventh soldier checked his stealth unit to ensure it was functioning properly. Revan had requisitioned an experimental military unit so as not to be discovered. And the training he received from Malak seemed to be working; the Jedi didn't detect him. They would all disembark on Malachor V, but only two would return to the shuttle: Lieutenant Bao-Dur and General Dex. Those were Revan's orders, and he was nothing if not obedient. Gloved fingertips went to the scar at his temple, a remnant of Revan's persuasive techniques. He knew the price of failure. She had clearly illustrated the point. 

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All of the occupants of the Republic shuttle braced themselves as they landed in a field of dead grass on the wilted planet of Malachor V.

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_You came. We knew you would come. Welcome…general._ Zana looked around, unwilling to admit that she knew exactly what the voice was because she felt chaos behind its words.

_Gennnerrrrraaal._ It was mocking her, rendering the word meaningless. _The Council didn't want to help. The Council wanted to let them die, didn't they?_ "No! I won't listen!" _Kavar wanted to let them all die, so __**you**__ wouldn't. Ah, but the other Jedi came, didn't he, General? And you killed him._ The small group had stopped and the soldiers regarded her with concern.

"General, are you well?" Bao-Dur sounded very far away.

"I'm…I…" She paused to steady her breath, "Yes, Bao, I'm fine. Let's just keep moving. We have two more to bury before we go." The Zabrak bowed his head and fell back into ranks. They trudged on, up and over hills, through tunnels, and across natural bridges, planting the last of the four devices into a rock face.

Covered in sweat, grit, and even a little blood from skidding on the gravelly soil, the group turned and started back toward the shuttle. Zana and Bao-Dur led the way, convinced that the few harmless native creatures they'd seen were no threat.

It happened quickly and without a sound, except for two cries heard through the Force.

Zana spun around to find that two of the soldiers were missing. Their comrades turned, and four sets of eyes widened in confusion. As they started a search for the two men, she realized what was wrong. "Stop! There's no need to search, they're already dead." She closed her eyes and reached out over the area searching for life, detecting only the five standing with her. Again, that flicker in the Force caused her to blink and turn her head to scan the horizon. "There's something…Look, we need to get back to that shuttle! Now!"

Turning on her heel, Zana didn't wait for the others to follow. _No, general. Don't go! We can bring him back to you…you want him back, don't you?_ Her eyes clamped shut, tears escaping through the corners, making rivulets along her cheeks. Zana ran blind, but she kept running. 

"Leave me alone! You can't make me fall. I know what you are!" She tried to hide her doubt, her fear--still running, tripping, falling. Zana's knee landed on a sharp upturned rock. By instinct, she reached out to the swirling Force around her. Grasping at it out of panic, she didn't care about light side or dark side. _If it can make the pain go away. All of it, Tren and Kavar and...and..._ Bao-Dur scooped her up into his arms, interrupting her thoughts and her connection to Malachor V's dark aura. Looking back over his shoulder, Zana could see that no one else had made it to the shuttle.

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The thin blade was Echani. Gleaming golden in the pale light of Malachor V, it silenced the soldiers before they could tell _anyone_. Commander Revan had been specific in her instructions, after all. The girl and the Zabrak would live, they were still needed. The soldiers assigned to protect them on the planet's surface would die, ensuring the secret weapon would _remain_ secret. He wiped the blade on his pants leg, admiring its craftsmanship. _It's a shame that it won't be used again._ The pile of bodies filled most of the small cave. "A damn shame," he muttered, as he fell heavily onto the beautiful, shining point.

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Revan hurried through the corridors of _Victorious_, only pausing when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the darkened window of an office. She had always been pretty in a way; though, certainly never considered "beautiful" by anyone except Malak. Now, she even scared him. Anemic, pale skin. Yellow, sunken eyes. Shadowed cheeks. Long black hair set into a severe bun. She found it hard to recognize the ashen face before her, and Malak had theorized that it would only get worse each time she used the dark side. _It can't be helped._

She added another task to her growing list. 

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**Conference room, Republic **_**Interdictor**_**-class ship, **_**Victorious**_

"Revan—" She found the name _Serena_ wouldn't come to her lips. "—What is the meaning of this? All six of them dead? I'm not as stupid as you think. You had them killed, that's what I detected?!" Zana's fists were balled. Her usually smooth features were contorted with rage at the loss of more innocent lives, and the sheer strength of it scared her. _There is no emotion, there is peace._

"Zana. Please, calm down. I don't think you're stupid, surely you know that…padawan." Revan chuckled derisively. "Sit down." Zana remained standing, warily watching the other woman, who was sitting at a long table.

"I'm going to tell you something, and you're going to listen this time. You think I'm a predator, ready to pounce. You won't look me in the eye. You refuse to call me by my name. Yes, of course, I've noticed. We were friends once, weren't we? Me and you and Tren and Galen, remember? I'm sorry about it all; you need to know that. _I need you to know it._ I haven't 'fallen' to the dark side; I'm not a weak-minded fool. As I said before, it is a _tool_." She sighed, as if bearing a terrible weight…the weight of the galaxy.

The general just rolled her eyes, "A tool that's turned you hard and cold--"

"No! Finding my husband **kriffing** my best friend did _**that**_." The venom in Revan's voice was unmistakable.

In response, Zana's hand went to her lightsaber, resting on the hilt. "Let's just get this over with, alright?"

"Fine." Revan squinted and scowled at her. "I'm glad to see that you're. Did they speak to you? The voices?" Zana took an involuntary step back. "I can see that they did. And yet, here you are. Whole and intact—" Revan smirked at her own joke, but it didn't carry over to her dead yellow eyes. Sith eyes. "--centered in the light."

She knew she looked gaunt and pale, but Revan resented the way Zana recoiled. "I wish _my_ trial had been so easy. I was strong. I was prepared for anything, except..." Revan removed something from a drawer and placed it on the table, sliding it over to Zana. It was a dirty piece of white wood with the word "Brianna" written in greenish painted scrawl. Zana looked back at Revan, inquiring, hoping to alleviate her friend's pain.

"'Brianna?'"

When she responded, the sing-song quality of Revan's usually clear voice was more than a little disturbing. "It said 'Travin' on it when I took it from Malachor V. A mind trick that has long worn off, I suppose. But I still carry it. I still see his name when I hold it. He…"

Before she could react, Zana's mind filled with the image of a small boy: tying his shoe, having a wooden saber fight, sleeping in a white crib with hand drawn lettering and Revan looking over him, smiling. Zana refused to shed tears for the woman and slid the wood back across the table.

"A child, Revan? A vision?"

Revan's answer was flat and unemotional, "Yes. I was pregnant when I went to Malachor, just before Dagary. He was defenseless against the planet's darkness and, in my panic, I reached out to the Force, to the dark side. It answered, unfortunately, and his pain ended with his life."

The young general sat down in the nearest chair and reached a hand across the table, unable to deny their years of friendship. Revan took it as Zana spoke, "I'm so sorry. That's awful, but…but it's not your fault. Is that why you grew so distant? After Dagary Minor, you were so…well…I thought it was just Tren…and the war."

"Don't pity me. I can't stand it!" She stared at Zana. "It was the second time I touched the dark side and—"

"—the first time was on Dantooine, wasn't it?! Wasn't it?" Zana leaned across the table to look into Revan's disturbingly changed eyes.

"How did you…"

"Our connection, whatever it is; back when you shared my dreams. Revan, why didn't you tell me? I could have helped. I can still help you. Let me…I can save you from the dark side, if you—"

"_Save_ me from the dark side? The things I learned on that Force-damned planet make it easier to get the job done; I use them for the common good!" Revan paused and pursed her lips, considering her words carefully. "I received a vision on Malachor V. There is a coming wave of…something…darkness. It will swallow up the galaxy, destroying planets as it moves. And I know how to stop it.

"This war is a precursor. The next war is the _real_ battle we were born to fight." Revan stood, deliberately walked around to Zana's side of the table, and loomed over the seated general. She touched Zana's cheek with her fingertips, "You are a great leader. They follow you so naturally." She tried to pull away as Revan turned the general's face to look up at her own.

"But, you are damaged, useless to me." Revan dropped her hand and looked pointedly at Zana. "Even you know it's true. There is one final act left in your hands; a final attempt at forgiveness...for your betrayal…and for Tren's death." Revan smirked when she saw Zana wince. "You will set a beacon, and then lure the Mandalorians back to Malachor V. When they are in position over the planet, signal Bao-Dur to start the weapon. It will decide who wins this war."

"But afterward, you don't want me among your army, Revan?" She failed to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"No." There was a terminal finality to the word. "After this final act, you're no one to me; dead without dying. You see death when you look in my eyes, and maybe, for you, that's exactly what it would mean. I know you won't follow me. Return to the enclave as you planned; a hero, savior of the Republic."

She thought about Revan's words. "Where…where will you go?"

"That's not for you to know; suffice it to say, I will be preparing. When the dark wave gets here, I want to be able to protect the Republic, and I will use _whatever tools are available_." 

"But—"

Revan slammed her fist on the table. "In war, there are sacrifices!"

"But, _you_?"Zana stood and faced Revan, grabbing her by the hand. "Did _you_ have to be the sacrifice this time?" Zana's eyes were leaden with tears, which she fought, unsuccessfully, to hold back, as Revan removed her hand and crossed the room to the viewport. Malachor V loomed in the distance.

"You're crying, Zana. Again." Her voice was thick with malice, toxic. "Perhaps you're not up to the task--"

"NO! I will do it. I will start it at the right moment--have no doubt! I'll end this war and I'll go home." Zana abruptly turned and stomped out of the room, leaving Revan alone.

Revan murmured, under her breath, "Oh, I _don't_ doubt you will do this little favor for me. I just wonder if you know the cost," and then, her expression softening, "I'm sorry. May the Force be with you."

She wondered when the other commanders would catch-on. _Will it be when they're out-numbered and out-maneuvered by the Mandalorian fleet? When their ships are being pulled down toward the planet?_ She felt a twinge of doubt and immediately shoved it away. _A momentary melancholy, nothing more._ Revan shook her head. This was necessary_...it is the fastest way to end the current conflict. Anything less and the Manda fleet won't fall into the trap. And there's no guarantee our ships __**will**__ be damaged…_

Even she wasn't convinced.

_Their deaths, like my face, are just another sacrifice along the road to peace._ She laughed at the vain arrogance of that thought, but a part of her cringed at the distorted sound of her own voice.

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Instead of returning to her chambers, Revan moved in the opposite direction, toward Engineering. The receptionist immediately summoned the chief engineer. "Commander Revan? What may I do for you?"

"I require your assistance..." Revan closed her eyes and pictured it: red and black metal inlaid upon a phrik alloy mask, with a cowl and hood--hiding both head and neck. The image burned into the man's skull.

He opened his eyes slowly, "I..."

She pressed him with the Force. "I need it in three days. You will build my mask. You won't stop until it's complete."

"I will build your mask." The engineer swallowed, hard. "I won't stop until it's complete."

"Contact me when you're done." Revan turned and walked away from the dazed man. He would have her mask ready, of course; she was certain.


	14. Part 14

**Three days after **_**For the Republic: Part 13**_

Just before Zana departed for _Courageous_, Revan broke their tenuous bond. It manifested as a "pop" at the base of her skull, resonating throughout her body and forcing her to lean against a wall for support. She felt Revan's absence like a void, and it nagged at her as she was transported away from _Victorious_. The heavy emptiness was oppressive. Feeling utterly alone for the first time since childhood, the general ordered _Courageous_ into deep space, leaving the fleet behind, and preparing to activate its signature Republic distress beacon. 

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For the first week after activating the beacon, the rest of the crew of _Courageous_ seemed...almost lighthearted. They knew this battle would end the war; with General Dex and Commander Revan, it must. In the second week, they became pensive. Whispered conversations in hallways, whispers in the cantina, whispering all around Zana as she moved through the ship. At the end of the second week, Revan contacted Zana to inform her that the Mandalorian fleet approached. After so much waiting, the soldiers were getting restless, and she was relieved that it was almost over, regardless of the outcome.

From her quarters, Zana watched the black expanse of space outside the ship. The transparisteel viewport was the only thing holding back the cold vacuum outside, and, suddenly, she didn't trust it as much. She didn't trust anything. _What am I doing here? I should have gone back, when she started acting...when she wasn't herself anymore. I should have convinced her._ Zana sighed, picturing Revan as she'd left her, wearing that strange mask and hood. She hated to admit it, but she was somewhat relieved that Revan had covered her face. _No, she may have lost some part of herself, but she still seems determined to do what's right: defending the Republic from the things in her vision. Is it _I_ who have failed _her 

Curling up in a comfortable chair, she leaned her head against the cushioned headrest. Her mind continued to drift, eventually landing on...Malak. The events of that night in her apartment were still a blur, lost time she would never fully regain. She knew 'what' had occurred, she remembered: making love to Tren, momentary happiness, and then there was darkness. It had surrounded her, smothering her with its closeness. She'd awoken to find Malak's eyes inches from her own, his lips crushing hers, his body moving against her. She'd felt herself suffocating in his darkness. Immediately, Revan's voice had joined the chorus, so many screams in the abyss, and Zana had felt all light and warmth siphoned from her body. She remembered the heaviness of Malak's lust and Revan's anger.

She knew she should _feel_ more...violated...but all she felt was immense sorrow. It pressed itself to the surface, drowning her other emotions. While just the memories were potent enough to leave her dizzy and disoriented, Zana was sure she should be feeling anger, disgust, guilt. However, below the sorrow was only apathy, something she knew had not been there before that night--Zana Dex had never been uncaring, dispassionate, or apathetic about anything…before the war. It was one of Master Vrook's many annoyances.

She continued on like this for some time, back and forth, trying to feel out her true thoughts and emotions. In the end, it proved impossible and her mind wandered back to Dantooine, during happier times spent with friends in the cafe. 

_Tren threw down a +5 card, making his total 20. He grinned triumphantly, climbing onto the table and standing above the crowd. The noisome group calmed down enough to hear him make a celebratory speech, "Thanks to my lucky charm--" He winked at Zana."--my 'natural talents', and--" He put on his best impression of Master Vrook. "--the will of the Force..."_

The crowd laughed and Tren shot them all a goofy grin, but he seemed distracted. "Thanks!" He hopped off the table, and Zana watched him wander over to a corner of the cafe. A youngling sat there, alone, watching the others. He bent down, whispered something to the boy, and brought him back to their table. For the next three hours, Tren proceeded to teach the youngling to play pazaak.

"See, it's in the cards. It's not just a game of chance, but you can bet your opponent will play like it is. You've got to battle stations be able to feel the deck, know what's coming. It's a game of battle stations skill, not luck. See, battle stations I've got fifteen, and I'm battle stations gonna take a card because we're mostly battle stations through the deck and haven't seen many battle stations low numbers, yet. They're there, I can battle stations feel 'em…

_**Battle stations?**_ Zana was suddenly slammed back into reality."Shavit!" Increasing her speed through the Force, she sped toward the bridge of _Courageous_.

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Revan left her fleet and carefully piloted the _Starling_ straight into the Mandalorian command ship's docking bay. Reaching out with the Force, she located Mandalore and ignited her lightsaber before running down the ramp.

She encountered a "welcoming party" immediately. Dodging and rolling, she threw a wave of Force at the Mandalorians as she fell behind a crate. A glance over the top revealed that all were unconscious. Without hesitation, Revan slashed each of the soldier's across the neck. In contrast with her first battle, the new-found ease with which she killed never crossed her mind. It was necessary and not worth a second thought.

The hangar door automatically opened before her, and, stepping into the hallway, she reached out again with the Force, searching for Mandalore. The corridor was strangely empty, and Revan guessed that could mean only one thing: they had fortified the bridge to protect their leader. _Fools._ She encountered minuscule opposition, scattered fighters meant to slow her progress and try for a lucky hit. Throwing them into stasis, she ended their lives and moved on. As she moved steadily closer to Mandalore--and an end to the war--Revan knew she'd made the right decision.

She felt the ship lurch. _It's almost too late._

She caught a glimpse of _Courageous_ through one of the starboard windows. They were firing on the command ship, but taking large amounts of damage themselves. Revan paused for just a moment, closed her eyes, and concentrated, sending the Republic fleet as much blood lust and desire for victory as she dared. _Only a necessary tool._ Revan was again advancing, leaving a trail of bodies.

She reached the bridge and didn't wait to find out if the doors were locked. Her hand flew toward the doors and they blew into the room, smashing into computers on the far wall. The bridge started to fill with smoke, and sparks illuminated everything in a surreal, flickering light. Revan lifted her hand again and swept it in front of her in an arc, focusing all of her anger into that movement. All around her, soldiers fell to her Force-amplified rage, writhing on the floor, before becoming eerily still.

She heard the sound of metal scraping out of a scabbard and turned in time to block Mandalore's sword with her lightsaber. With a roar, she attacked in a flurry of strikes, a blur to the non-sensitive eye, swirling around Mandalore as the large man tried to get a lock on his opponent amidst the violet glow of her 'saber. Summoning her remaining strength, Revan stopped moving and swung her lightsaber at Mandalore, sending all of her need into the blade. It connected with the man's shoulders and with little resistance slid across and through, both pieces of Mandalore the Ultimate falling to the floor. 

Republic intelligence had reported on the importance of Mandalore's helmet, how it represented the right of the wearer to rule the Mandalorian tribes. Revan reached down and scooped up his helmet, deftly unlocking it from the scarred armor.

And then, she ran. Gripping Mandalore's helmet, she no longer felt any guilt or regret--Revan felt revived, exhilarated, powerful.

The ship pulled, again, hard to starboard and a whine erupted from its crumbling hull. She estimated she had minutes to get away from the effects of the Mass Shadow Generator. Otherwise, the _Starling_ would plummet to the planet's surface along with the Mandalorian cruiser. 

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_Courageous_ put up a good fight: pulling away, feinting, attacking, dodging. As they came into view of Malachor V and the Republic fleet, Zana ordered the pilots to bring the ship around to join the others. They carefully maneuvered into position, continually firing as she checked coordinates. The space surrounding them was filled with the exchange of blaster fire, and _Courageous_ shook as a Mandalorian cruiser on the viewscreen clipped one of the lower decks with a well-placed shot.

"General, we can't hold them off like this for much longer--"

"Just a little more; they're close now." Zana held her breath as the Mandalorian ships moved into position...She felt it—a twinge, the Force. "Bao! Now!!"

The Zabrak typed in a code and slammed his hand down on the large black button, activating his weapon on the planet's surface. As he watched with satisfaction, the Mandalorian ships began to droop, spark, and smoke. They suddenly stopped attacking--the Republic gunners laid into the ships, and, slowly, the Mandalorian fleet began to sink toward the planet. "What...?" Zana was only beginning to understand what Bao-Dur's weapon could do.

"As we discussed, it will increase the gravity, pulling some of the ships down to the surface and crushing others here in orbit."

Zana shook her head at his response; she had a splitting headache that was steadily getting worse. "Yeah, but…I didn't think…that sounds awful." A ringing in her ears added itself to a growing chorus in her head. "WAIT! Look!" She was pointing at the viewscreen, commanding it to magnify. There on the screen, in slow motion, the flight crew of _Courageous_ watched its sister ship, _Fearless_, plunge toward the surface. The viewscreen began to slide left, then down, then _Courageous_, itself, lurched hard to the left. "What's...I--" Consoles sparked and went black, ceiling tiles fell, and Zana was suddenly lying on the floor, holding her head and whimpering, screaming, clawing at her skull.

Alarms began to sound as Bao-Dur leaned down to pick her up. He noticed she was mumbling between gasps, "so many…so…no…find him!…NONONONoNonononono..." She fainted, mercifully, and he hurriedly slung the general over his shoulder.

As he carried her through the corridors of the ship, it continued to shake and groan. The corridors, themselves, shifted and warped as the Mass Shadow Generator pulled the ship toward the surface of Malachor V, crushing it with sheer gravitational force. A sudden shift to the right sent Bao-Dur flying. He lost his grip on Zana and landed flat on his back as an immediately opposite shift to the left dislodged many of the huge structural beams throughout the ship. They rained down around them, pinning Bao-Dur to the floor, his agonized screams piercing the din.

Zana was lying within reach, but completely incapacitated. He could reach her lightsaber, however, and Bao-Dur drew the weapon. Squinting, he held her 'saber steadily, and stroked down, severing left arm, which was crushed under a beam. He screamed again, this time sounding more like a wounded animal. Standing, wobbling dizzily for a moment, he hefted her, one-handed, back up onto his shoulder. Through the smoke and sparks, Bao-Dur carried the Jedi general to her shuttle--fighting unconsciousness, himself--and set the autopilot to return to _Victorious_.

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**The lower decks of **_**Courageous**_

Sirens blared. Lights flashed. The "Battle Stations!" announcement, the same one used in drills, was screeching at them over the comm system--but it wasn't a drill. Jaq grabbed his armored vest and ran through the corridor. Ensign...what's-her-name...followed close behind, pulling on her clothes as quickly as she could find them. They sprinted down the hall; she to the bridge, he to the turret stations. _We waited here for two weeks, and nothin'. I get a particularly good lay into my room, on a night when Boxer isn't hanging around--the Mandalorian fleet attacks. Gah!_

He laid into the Mandalorian ship as _Courageous_ came about, putting all of his pent up sexual frustration into firing his laser turret. The turret gun was heating more and more with each blast, and he found himself thankful, once again, for his thermal gloves. Sweat snaked down his temple to his jaw, but he couldn't spare a hand to swipe at it.

His own ship shook with the impact of what felt like a well placed blast. It knocked most of the gunners to the ground, but Jaq hung on, firing at the hulking frigate in front of him. Suddenly, the Mandalorian ship was sliding to the side, turning nose up, sliding some more. _What is the fracking deal?!_ To his horror, Jaq realized it wasn't the Mandalorian ship that was crashing...

The flashing lights above changed from red to blue, and the "Evacuate Immediately" announcement, with a much sexier voice, asked them to leave their turrets and proceed to their assigned escape shuttle. Jaq's frustration still not spent, he told his comrades to go, and he would keep at it until they all got out. It was an excuse, of course; he just wanted to pound laser fire into the giant, ugly Mando ship for a while longer. _Courageous_ gave another dangerous shake, and he could tell it was really going down, crashing toward Malachor V. The "Evacuate Immediately" girl asked him to please report to his assigned escape shuttle, again. He didn't need to be told a third tim; Jaq started running. 

Having recently been moved to turret duty, Jaq's "assigned escape shuttle" was at the other end of the ship, closer to the bridge--_Why couldn't I keep my big mouth shut?_ Even if there _were_ closer shuttles, he wouldn't be able to take them because his duty card would only activate his assigned bay. It kept things fair...supposedly. As he passed other escape shuttle bays, he noticed dead or dying soldiers lying on the floors. Apparently, keeping things fair only applied to non-combat situations. Jaq thought, _They weren't shot by any enemy. Well, I guess they'd be enemies, now..._ He kept running. Better to go to his assigned shuttle, because it would definitely be there and he had the right codes. Of course, if he were an officer, he could just override the codes and take the first shuttle he came to. _'Might-have-been's will get you nowhere, Rand._ For the moment, keeping things simple would keep him alive.

The ship shook again and Jaq heard the terrible screech of metal "tearing"--a steel beam fell across his path, but he narrowly avoided it by ducking and rolling. He jumped, dodged, and hurdled his way toward the shuttle bay. Up three flights of stairs, down the long corridor that passed the ladies' shower room, up another floor, down the corridor that passed the brig, Rear Admiral Karath's offices, the caf..._No fracking way!_

Jaq felt the urge to stop--_STOP?!_--and turn around. It was so strong that he had already done so and gone five paces before he realized it. He stopped again, willing himself to turn back toward the escape shuttles, but there was nothing he could do. Some innate sense told him, "Go this way." So, as usual, he followed his senses; down a side corridor barely wide enough for two people to pass, up an access ladder to the floor above, and through the (now destroyed) security doors.

More ripping sounds urged Jaq to move faster. He passed a small corridor, but backed up when he realized what he'd seen. There, pinned under a fallen metal beam, was a pilot. His orangish leather flight jacket stood out in stark contrast against the bland gray of the capital ship's walls and floors. "Hey, guy? You alive?" The pilot didn't move, but he groaned loudly enough that Jaq was sure he was fine...well, considering the circumstances.

He closed the gap in just a few steps and set to work assessing the beam. The pilot--a Lieutenant Onasi, the nametag registering on the peripheral of his awareness--was bleeding from somewhere. It was pooling around his middle. _Not a good sign!_ Still, Jaq felt compelled to help the man, and again he went with his instinct. It seemed the beam had fallen across the pilot's legs when the shaking knocked him over. Lifting the beam straight up shouldn't harm the man any more than he already was; Jaq just hoped the pilot could crawl out from under it before he dropped it again. "When I say crawl, you crawl forward like there's a rancor on your tail, got it?" The lieutenant grunted the affirmative.

Jaq straddled the beam, grabbing it with both hands and lifting straight up. Nothing happened. He tried again, closing his eyes and visualizing the beam lifting off the man's body. He concentrated on his hands and shifting the weight up and away from the pilot and, to his surprise, it moved just enough for the man to wiggle away. "Crawl!" Just as the pilot's feet cleared the beam, Jaq lost his grip and it crashed back to the floor. Lieutenant Onasi was already on his feet, holding his side where some other piece of debris must have struck him. "You okay, Lieutenant? Can you walk?" The man again grunted his affirmation, and the two set off toward the escape shuttle bay.

Rounding a corner, Jaq stopped walking. The pilot yelled back at him, "C'mon. You don't wanna wait any longer! Let's go, sold--!" Before the pilot could get out the last syllable, the ship shook again. Hard. It was ripping in two and Jaq and the lieutenant suddenly found themselves separated by a wide crevasse. It was too wide to jump.

"I'll go around. Go on to the shuttles, Lieutenant. Don't wait for me!" Jaq turned to run.

"But..."

Atton yelled over the dying ship, "You're injured, I'm not. Go!"

"T--Thanks." Lieutenant Onasi struggled to get the words out. "Y--You saved my life!" Jaq gave the lieutenant a wide, lopsided grin, and then ran back down the corridor, scrambled up a maintenance ladder, and down a thin hall. _If I am where I think I am..._ There it was: a recessed maintenance panel set in the wall of the ship. Kicking it open, he crawled through the small entrance and up another tiny ladder. Jaq emerged in a wide executive wing just as the ship, in its final death thrall, ripped apart, the pieces spreading slowly toward the planet.

He clung to the railing that lined the walls as the innards of _Courageous_ were exposed to the freezing expanse of deep space above Malachor V. The planet below was glowing green and sucking the larger ships down onto the surface, while the smaller pieces took up orbit--_Whoa! What's going on here?!_ It was then that Jaq realized he wasn't dead.

When the ship's hull ruptured and the ship itself ripped apart, its automatic life-support took effect. Jaq was safe behind the blue glow of a containment field. _There might be enough breathable air to last--_he looked around at his new 'small-but-stable' piece of ship floating above the dead planet_--three days. Good, because that's as long as I can go without water, anyway._ The thought wasn't reassuring.

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When the shuttle reached _Victorious_, it was Revan, herself, who greeted it and supervised Zana's transfer to the medical bay. She had resumed whimpering and mumbling and it wasn't long before Revan ordered her another tranquilizer.

Bao-Dur was fitted with a motorized bio-prosthetic and returned to the ranks immediately, left to wander at the fate of his general.

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**A small piece of the wreckage of the Republic **_**Interdictor**_**-class ship **_**Courageous**_**, in orbit around Malachor V.**

_Three days? Three days?! It's been five, why am I still here? I wanted to be dead before the crazy started! _Jaq waved his hands in the air, shook his head around, and rolled his eyes. The voices had started on the fourth day, hissing their message from the planet below—he knew their chorus by heart. "Blame the Republic! Blame the Jedi!" he yelled into space. "They did this to you!" He punched the air. "That's what you want to show me, right? You've been saying it for two days. I believe you, okay!?" He shook his head at the idea of talking to a disembodied voice, mumbling, "Except Revan. Revan brought whatever Jedi she could, even when their leaders refused and left us to die. She saved us." 

It was at this moment that a ship arrived: _Victorious_. As the tractor beam locked on to his orbiting raft of space junk, Jaq couldn't help but think, _She saved me, again!_

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**Six days after detonation of the Mass Shadow Generator**

**Aboard Republic **_**Interdictor**_**-class ship **_**Victorious**_

"You have defeated the Mandalorian scourge that held our Republic in a death grip and saved many innocent lives by your heroic actions here at Malachor V. I am proud to present Commander Antilles and Lieutenant Bao-Dur with the Cross of Glory, the highest honor in the Republic!" Vice Admiral Leopold pinned an award on each soldier's chest. On the large viewscreens, Antilles beamed with pride, while the Zabrak stood with quiet dignity. The audience full of soldiers--survivors of the Mass Shadow Generator--clapped and cheered. The crews of the other remaining ships, watching on their own viewscreens, were celebrating, as well. It was a bittersweet victory; since regrouping, they realized that their numbers had been severely reduced. 

Unbeknownst to the grunts gathered in the hold, in the aftermath of Malachor V, it was discovered that Bao-Dur's "secret weapon" had destroyed half of the Republic fleet along with the Mandalorians. Perhaps due to miscalculation or underestimation, whole ships were missing, most likely having plunged to the surface of the planet—but, it had won the war, as Revan predicted.

Of the survivors, there were very few injured, and none required lengthy stays in the medical bay. One sentiment moving among the soldiers was, "You either survived...or you didn't." It had become rather popular in the cantina, said before each shot of Corellian whiskey. There were no search parties; there was nothing to search. Malachor V had been ripped apart, its own unique gravity the only thing still holding the pieces together. Electrical storms and quakes raged over the surface, and no one would be landing on the planet for years.

The admiral called for quiet, "Each of you present will also receive a Star of Service." They applauded again, this time more expectant of his next statement. "And, now, with the formalities out of the way, I have one final announcement. The Senate sent a shipment of Corellian whiskey, Tarisian ale, and Telosian and Deralian wines to each ship. Enjoy yourselves!" The soldiers began mumbling, talking amongst themselves, making plans. 

"Commander Antilles, a word," Leopold called to his friend.

"Yes, sir?"

"Where is Commander Revan? I was expecting to meet her. She, too, is to be rewarded for her service, and I have a message from the Jedi Council."

Antilles' brow furrowed, "Revan was feeling...out of sorts." He shrugged. "She asked not to be disturbed. In fact, she and General Malak have likely retired for the night. General Dex--you remember, the one that won us Dxun?--she's in the medical bay--"

"--medical bay? What happened?" He was genuinely concerned.

Commander Antilles smiled, but it was melancholy and without warmth. "Well..." He sighed. "Maybe you should just see her. If you please, Admiral?" He stepped aside to let the man walk past him and toward the nearby exit to the main corridor.

They walked in silence for some time before the admiral spoke, "Alin, tell me what happened to her. I mean, she's the girl, the one that led the siege on Dxun, but what does that…"

Antilles again smiled the melancholy smile, "She is also the Jedi who activated the Mass Shadow Generator, effectively ending the war. There is something wrong, though. Commander Revan couldn't explain it. Master Kae has been working toward healing her, but it is a slow process. The wounds aren't physical. As I understand it, they're within her spirit. The thing the Jedi call 'force.' You know how Jedi are, though; cryptic at the best of times."

As the medical bay doors slid open, Arren Kae looked up slowly. A quiet, handsome woman, the commander always found himself slightly flustered by her constant calm. "Hello, Alin, so nice to see you again." Standing, she bowed. "Vice Admiral Leopold, I presume."

The admiral nodded. "Hello, Master Kae. I have come to see your patient."

"You may look, Admiral, but what you will see is a lie. She is not calmly sleeping. In her mind, she is reliving the death of every soldier on every ship that crashed to the surface and scattered in space. I have tried to gain entrance, but the power of her pain blocks me."

"Will she awaken with time?"

"Honestly, there's no way to know. It is an insidious wound, seeping deeper within her mind as time passes. We shall see how she fares in a few days." Muttering to herself, Kae continued, "The poor girl was always kind and compassionate, but I fear her compassion shall be her undoing this time. She is weak now, but, perhaps...with time..."

The two officers thanked her and left the medical bay--no need disturbing the tranquil atmosphere more than necessary. Both felt agitated. "So, Leopold, how about a drink?" They returned to the party, drowning their discomfort with Tarisian ale.

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Former Jedi Master Arren Kae sat next to Zana's bed. The girl lay, much the same as she had when Revan carried her there six days before. Machines pumped sedatives and nourishment into Zana's body, waste and fluids out. Electrodes stimulated her muscles at regular intervals to prevent atrophy. Her breathing was normal, though somewhat shallow, and her throat had developed a rasp after a few days without swallowing.

Kae made minimal attempts to reach Zana's mind, not that she wanted her to wake.

Quite to the contrary, Arren Kae wanted Zana to wallow in the pain, soak it up, make it part of herself. When Revan placed the girl onto a gurney, she implored "Master Kae" to help her friend. Revan, with her mask and hood, trying to hide her new ugliness from everyone as veins formed at her temples and her skin became more ashen by the day. Kae knew the signs. She also thought she understood Revan's motives for turning to the dark side for aid. _After all, it was I who sent her to Malachor V, was it not?_ The fact that Malak did not trust Kae or her motives was no surprise, either. _He knows I sent her and, unlike his wife, he is not blinded by the past._ Malak had tried, unsuccessfully, to question Kae about Revan's first trip to Malachor V on numerous occasions. 

She chuckled at the complexity of her plan.

"No, Zana Dex, it isn't your destiny to be healed of this; but, it _is_ mine to be the knife that twists in the wound, widening it, ensuring it...will...scar." Kae had closed her eyes and as she spoke, pictured the wound in her mind. The last words escaped through gritted teeth, as she stepped into Zana's consciousness.

_"Such a tiny thing when it started, like you." The 'Zana' in Kae's vision was awake and floating upright just above the ground. Her torso glowed with a bright violet ring of light, an oval covering portions of her chest and stomach--it was roughly the length of Master Kae's hand. Inside the ring was...nothing; a void where the Force could not go._

"Why are you doing this to me?" Zana questioned.

"A whelp of a child when you arrived," was all that Kae muttered as she concentrated on expanding the oval, expanding the wound. It had started as a pinprick, at the very center of Zana's being. "It would have healed, in time." The former Master was proud of her progress, "Nearly there."

"Please, let me wake up! I need to wake up!" She was pleading, now. Desperate.

"Stop it, child! Still speaking too much for your own good, I see. You charmed them all so_ quickly...particularly Kavar. Did you know that he chose you for his padawan many years before you were eligible? He laid his claim on you in advance, and tossed Revan aside like so much rubbish."_

"I know...no, he...but…"

"I have no reason to lie to you here_. He threw her away."_

Zana glared at the woman. "No…Yes, but...Leave Kavar out of this!"

"What would Master Vrook say, hearing _**you**__ refer to your master with such...familiarity." The woman chuckled. "He can't love you; you know that--else, you are a glutton for punishment." She continued checking Zana's 'wound' for weaknesses._

"Love is not in your destiny, no matter how much you will it. For you to love, someone must die, and I do not think you shall be willing to take on anymore deaths…particularly his_. You won't remember this conversation, of course, but you shall always remember that the disciple and the fool are not for you—particularly the fool. After all, he would ruin all of my hard work." Kae laughed at that, the idea that __**he**__ or anyone else could heal the damage she wrought. "Hmm...Let me try this." Squinting, she screwed up her face, and put her hands back to back, then extended her arms straight out in front of her. Kae's hands were suddenly claws and she moved them swiftly apart, ripping at the hole, forcing it into ragged edges. "Ah…there it is…"_

The pain overwhelmed Zana, hearing thousands of voices scream her name as the hole ripped even more-- 

--Kae looked up as two officers entered the medical bay. She greeted the admiral and the commander, exuding an aura of quiet visitation. 

"Hello, Master Kae. I have come to see your patient."

Speaking to them briefly, Darth Traya extolled a tale of tragedy laced with just enough reality for it to ring true.

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Malak sat at the desk, alternately staring at Revan and closing his eyes and pinching his brow, or touching his temple. He had a headache. In fact, he had a _constant_ headache that began the day they installed his vocabulator. The voice of the vocabulator pierced his skull each time he spoke, the sound magnified by its unnatural proximity to his ears. It was directly wired to his brainstem, following his brain's own neuro-pathways, and requiring less modification than would be expected. A feeding tube was located next to the vocabulator, hidden behind the large metal shield, protected. Not that Malak ate anything; it was mostly used for highly caloric, nutrient-rich sludge manufactured somewhere in the Outer Rim, occasionally supplemented by vitamin salts suspended in water.

The medical droids had repaired him well, and he was amazed by how quickly it had become part of his body, instincts, and habits. He no longer felt inhibited by the shield's unappealing appearance; he felt powerful. In a conversation, his disconcerting presence gave him the advantage over others. He was mysterious, perhaps even frightening. Yes, frightening was probably more appropriate. No one had ever been afraid of Malak before; he hadn't realized how intoxicating the effect could become--and it never grew tiresome watching soldiers jump back from him as he turned a corner. 

Malak looked up as Revan stopped pacing. She spoke out loud, but to herself, "A vid, then. That 'Vice Admiral Leopold' must understand that the _Mandalorian threat_ is still out there. He'll believe it, too; all of them will. What could be worse than a second Mandalorian invasion? Whatever it is that's coming will be worse than anything the Mandalorians could inflict…the Republic doesn't need to know that; it would only raise more questions." She glanced at Malak, her face set in the stony expression that rarely changed throughout the day. "What ARE you doing?"

"Watching you."

"Why?" Revan was annoyed. _Again._ He noticed her upper lip moved the tiniest bit, slightly sneering at him. Her yellow eyes searched his face and Malak found himself missing her green ones.

"Because I love you. I mean, you are my wife, even if you _are_ a _schutta_, as they say." Instantly, Malak found himself on the floor against a wall, his head pounding harder. If he could have smiled, he would have grinned at Revan—a spiteful grin without mirth. It was another interesting side effect of his "accident" and subsequent alteration: his speech and manor were emboldened. He often said what he thought, instead of deferring to Revan.

These outbursts and their consequences were growing more numerous.

"How's your jaw?" she asked in a somber tone as she watched him pick himself up off the floor, "Still sore?"

"No. It is becoming accustomed to my biology. The droids assured me that it would...eventually." Malak had awoken on several occasions screaming in pain as his body tried to reject the cybernetic parts. In what was becoming a rare show of affection, she cradled his head and held his hand on each occasion, seeming more like "Serena" and less like "Revan" for those few stolen moments. Then, her jaw would set in disgust and Malak's hopes would sink, realizing he had lost her again.

Dropping back into his chair, he sighed. He knew he was falling, too--it was only a matter of time as long as he stayed with her. And he _would_ stay with her until the end. _Until she kills me._ He had concluded weeks ago that their journey toward the dark side would eventually climax in his own death. In a way, he would welcome it.

The silence lasted a few moments longer before Revan instructed Malak to leave their chambers. She needed utmost privacy and concentration to make the vid believable. The alteration of her appearance to a semblance of normalcy would fool the admiral and his soldiers, but it would drain her. And, thankfully, there were no Jedi onboard his ship; _they_ would spot it immediately.

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The vid was labeled "Secure Feed: Vid: Visual and Audio: Source, Commander Serena Revan, Jedi Knight." The young woman on the screen seemed to have a kind of magnetism brought on by experience. She sat at a desk in what appeared to be an apartment on a Republic ship--likely her command ship, _Victorious_. Her face was calm, though her features were slightly drawn and a thin lipped smile appeared, fleetingly, followed by a sigh. She pushed a stray hair behind her ear, toward a thick black bun.

"Vice Admiral Leopold, I am Commander Serena Revan. My apologies for not meeting with you when you were on the ship, but I am much better for the rest. I know it is the Republic's plan for the fleet to return to Coruscant in the wake of our recent victory. However, I am afraid this isn't possible as we will be leaving soon, traveling beyond the rim, into unknown space. The Mandalorians have not been completely dealt with, and I shudder to think of leaving the job half-finished. My duty is to the Republic, and its protection is my utmost concern." She paused, shifting in her seat, sitting up taller. "The campaign continues. It is the Republic's will that we properly route the Mandalorian threat and that's what we'll do; otherwise, no one will be safe. May the Force be with you. End transmission."

The screen went black, and then reverted to a frozen version of the opening shot featuring the commander smiling down at them. Leopold ran a hand over his face. _The Unknown Regions...the girl has guts!_ He knew there would be repercussions when he returned to Coruscant without the remainder of the battle fleet, but it was something he would handle then. She was right. If the Mandalorians were still there, just beyond the Republic's purview...He shuddered at the thought of a second Mandalorian invasion fleet.

Admiral Karath and Vice Admiral Leopold filed quietly out of the room; each lost in his own very different thoughts of the future. Lieutenant Onasi glanced at the screen, wondering why the image kept shifting…something wasn't right about the woman's appearance, but he shrugged and followed his commanding officers out of the room, faintly limping.

**Three days after **_**For the Republic: Part 13**_

Just before Zana departed for _Courageous_, Revan broke their tenuous bond. It manifested as a "pop" at the base of her skull, resonating throughout her body and forcing her to lean against a wall for support. She felt Revan's absence like a void, and it nagged at her as she was transported away from _Victorious_. The heavy emptiness was oppressive. Feeling utterly alone for the first time since childhood, the general ordered _Courageous_ into deep space, leaving the fleet behind, and preparing to activate its signature Republic distress beacon. 

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For the first week after activating the beacon, the rest of the crew of _Courageous_ seemed...almost lighthearted. They knew this battle would end the war; with General Dex and Commander Revan, it must. In the second week, they became pensive. Whispered conversations in hallways, whispers in the cantina, whispering all around Zana as she moved through the ship. At the end of the second week, Revan contacted Zana to inform her that the Mandalorian fleet approached. After so much waiting, the soldiers were getting restless, and she was relieved that it was almost over, regardless of the outcome.

From her quarters, Zana watched the black expanse of space outside the ship. The transparisteel viewport was the only thing holding back the cold vacuum outside, and, suddenly, she didn't trust it as much. She didn't trust anything. _What am I doing here? I should have gone back, when she started acting...when she wasn't herself anymore. I should have convinced her._ Zana sighed, picturing Revan as she'd left her, wearing that strange mask and hood. She hated to admit it, but she was somewhat relieved that Revan had covered her face. _No, she may have lost some part of herself, but she still seems determined to do what's right: defending the Republic from the things in her vision. Is it _I_ who have failed _her 

Curling up in a comfortable chair, she leaned her head against the cushioned headrest. Her mind continued to drift, eventually landing on...Malak. The events of that night in her apartment were still a blur, lost time she would never fully regain. She knew 'what' had occurred, she remembered: making love to Tren, momentary happiness, and then there was darkness. It had surrounded her, smothering her with its closeness. She'd awoken to find Malak's eyes inches from her own, his lips crushing hers, his body moving against her. She'd felt herself suffocating in his darkness. Immediately, Revan's voice had joined the chorus, so many screams in the abyss, and Zana had felt all light and warmth siphoned from her body. She remembered the heaviness of Malak's lust and Revan's anger.

She knew she should _feel_ more...violated...but all she felt was immense sorrow. It pressed itself to the surface, drowning her other emotions. While just the memories were potent enough to leave her dizzy and disoriented, Zana was sure she should be feeling anger, disgust, guilt. However, below the sorrow was only apathy, something she knew had not been there before that night--Zana Dex had never been uncaring, dispassionate, or apathetic about anything…before the war. It was one of Master Vrook's many annoyances.

She continued on like this for some time, back and forth, trying to feel out her true thoughts and emotions. In the end, it proved impossible and her mind wandered back to Dantooine, during happier times spent with friends in the cafe. 

_Tren threw down a +5 card, making his total 20. He grinned triumphantly, climbing onto the table and standing above the crowd. The noisome group calmed down enough to hear him make a celebratory speech, "Thanks to my lucky charm--" He winked at Zana."--my 'natural talents', and--" He put on his best impression of Master Vrook. "--the will of the Force..."_

The crowd laughed and Tren shot them all a goofy grin, but he seemed distracted. "Thanks!" He hopped off the table, and Zana watched him wander over to a corner of the cafe. A youngling sat there, alone, watching the others. He bent down, whispered something to the boy, and brought him back to their table. For the next three hours, Tren proceeded to teach the youngling to play pazaak.

"See, it's in the cards. It's not just a game of chance, but you can bet your opponent will play like it is. You've got to battle stations be able to feel the deck, know what's coming. It's a game of battle stations skill, not luck. See, battle stations I've got fifteen, and I'm battle stations gonna take a card because we're mostly battle stations through the deck and haven't seen many battle stations low numbers, yet. They're there, I can battle stations feel 'em…

_**Battle stations?**_ Zana was suddenly slammed back into reality."Shavit!" Increasing her speed through the Force, she sped toward the bridge of _Courageous_.

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Revan left her fleet and carefully piloted the _Starling_ straight into the Mandalorian command ship's docking bay. Reaching out with the Force, she located Mandalore and ignited her lightsaber before running down the ramp.

She encountered a "welcoming party" immediately. Dodging and rolling, she threw a wave of Force at the Mandalorians as she fell behind a crate. A glance over the top revealed that all were unconscious. Without hesitation, Revan slashed each of the soldier's across the neck. In contrast with her first battle, the new-found ease with which she killed never crossed her mind. It was necessary and not worth a second thought.

The hangar door automatically opened before her, and, stepping into the hallway, she reached out again with the Force, searching for Mandalore. The corridor was strangely empty, and Revan guessed that could mean only one thing: they had fortified the bridge to protect their leader. _Fools._ She encountered minuscule opposition, scattered fighters meant to slow her progress and try for a lucky hit. Throwing them into stasis, she ended their lives and moved on. As she moved steadily closer to Mandalore--and an end to the war--Revan knew she'd made the right decision.

She felt the ship lurch. _It's almost too late._

She caught a glimpse of _Courageous_ through one of the starboard windows. They were firing on the command ship, but taking large amounts of damage themselves. Revan paused for just a moment, closed her eyes, and concentrated, sending the Republic fleet as much blood lust and desire for victory as she dared. _Only a necessary tool._ Revan was again advancing, leaving a trail of bodies.

She reached the bridge and didn't wait to find out if the doors were locked. Her hand flew toward the doors and they blew into the room, smashing into computers on the far wall. The bridge started to fill with smoke, and sparks illuminated everything in a surreal, flickering light. Revan lifted her hand again and swept it in front of her in an arc, focusing all of her anger into that movement. All around her, soldiers fell to her Force-amplified rage, writhing on the floor, before becoming eerily still.

She heard the sound of metal scraping out of a scabbard and turned in time to block Mandalore's sword with her lightsaber. With a roar, she attacked in a flurry of strikes, a blur to the non-sensitive eye, swirling around Mandalore as the large man tried to get a lock on his opponent amidst the violet glow of her 'saber. Summoning her remaining strength, Revan stopped moving and swung her lightsaber at Mandalore, sending all of her need into the blade. It connected with the man's shoulders and with little resistance slid across and through, both pieces of Mandalore the Ultimate falling to the floor. 

Republic intelligence had reported on the importance of Mandalore's helmet, how it represented the right of the wearer to rule the Mandalorian tribes. Revan reached down and scooped up his helmet, deftly unlocking it from the scarred armor.

And then, she ran. Gripping Mandalore's helmet, she no longer felt any guilt or regret--Revan felt revived, exhilarated, powerful.

The ship pulled, again, hard to starboard and a whine erupted from its crumbling hull. She estimated she had minutes to get away from the effects of the Mass Shadow Generator. Otherwise, the _Starling_ would plummet to the planet's surface along with the Mandalorian cruiser. 

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_Courageous_ put up a good fight: pulling away, feinting, attacking, dodging. As they came into view of Malachor V and the Republic fleet, Zana ordered the pilots to bring the ship around to join the others. They carefully maneuvered into position, continually firing as she checked coordinates. The space surrounding them was filled with the exchange of blaster fire, and _Courageous_ shook as a Mandalorian cruiser on the viewscreen clipped one of the lower decks with a well-placed shot.

"General, we can't hold them off like this for much longer--"

"Just a little more; they're close now." Zana held her breath as the Mandalorian ships moved into position...She felt it—a twinge, the Force. "Bao! Now!!"

The Zabrak typed in a code and slammed his hand down on the large black button, activating his weapon on the planet's surface. As he watched with satisfaction, the Mandalorian ships began to droop, spark, and smoke. They suddenly stopped attacking--the Republic gunners laid into the ships, and, slowly, the Mandalorian fleet began to sink toward the planet. "What...?" Zana was only beginning to understand what Bao-Dur's weapon could do.

"As we discussed, it will increase the gravity, pulling some of the ships down to the surface and crushing others here in orbit."

Zana shook her head at his response; she had a splitting headache that was steadily getting worse. "Yeah, but…I didn't think…that sounds awful." A ringing in her ears added itself to a growing chorus in her head. "WAIT! Look!" She was pointing at the viewscreen, commanding it to magnify. There on the screen, in slow motion, the flight crew of _Courageous_ watched its sister ship, _Fearless_, plunge toward the surface. The viewscreen began to slide left, then down, then _Courageous_, itself, lurched hard to the left. "What's...I--" Consoles sparked and went black, ceiling tiles fell, and Zana was suddenly lying on the floor, holding her head and whimpering, screaming, clawing at her skull.

Alarms began to sound as Bao-Dur leaned down to pick her up. He noticed she was mumbling between gasps, "so many…so…no…find him!…NONONONoNonononono..." She fainted, mercifully, and he hurriedly slung the general over his shoulder.

As he carried her through the corridors of the ship, it continued to shake and groan. The corridors, themselves, shifted and warped as the Mass Shadow Generator pulled the ship toward the surface of Malachor V, crushing it with sheer gravitational force. A sudden shift to the right sent Bao-Dur flying. He lost his grip on Zana and landed flat on his back as an immediately opposite shift to the left dislodged many of the huge structural beams throughout the ship. They rained down around them, pinning Bao-Dur to the floor, his agonized screams piercing the din.

Zana was lying within reach, but completely incapacitated. He could reach her lightsaber, however, and Bao-Dur drew the weapon. Squinting, he held her 'saber steadily, and stroked down, severing left arm, which was crushed under a beam. He screamed again, this time sounding more like a wounded animal. Standing, wobbling dizzily for a moment, he hefted her, one-handed, back up onto his shoulder. Through the smoke and sparks, Bao-Dur carried the Jedi general to her shuttle--fighting unconsciousness, himself--and set the autopilot to return to _Victorious_.

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**The lower decks of **_**Courageous**_

Sirens blared. Lights flashed. The "Battle Stations!" announcement, the same one used in drills, was screeching at them over the comm system--but it wasn't a drill. Jaq grabbed his armored vest and ran through the corridor. Ensign...what's-her-name...followed close behind, pulling on her clothes as quickly as she could find them. They sprinted down the hall; she to the bridge, he to the turret stations. _We waited here for two weeks, and nothin'. I get a particularly good lay into my room, on a night when Boxer isn't hanging around--the Mandalorian fleet attacks. Gah!_

He laid into the Mandalorian ship as _Courageous_ came about, putting all of his pent up sexual frustration into firing his laser turret. The turret gun was heating more and more with each blast, and he found himself thankful, once again, for his thermal gloves. Sweat snaked down his temple to his jaw, but he couldn't spare a hand to swipe at it.

His own ship shook with the impact of what felt like a well placed blast. It knocked most of the gunners to the ground, but Jaq hung on, firing at the hulking frigate in front of him. Suddenly, the Mandalorian ship was sliding to the side, turning nose up, sliding some more. _What is the fracking deal?!_ To his horror, Jaq realized it wasn't the Mandalorian ship that was crashing...

The flashing lights above changed from red to blue, and the "Evacuate Immediately" announcement, with a much sexier voice, asked them to leave their turrets and proceed to their assigned escape shuttle. Jaq's frustration still not spent, he told his comrades to go, and he would keep at it until they all got out. It was an excuse, of course; he just wanted to pound laser fire into the giant, ugly Mando ship for a while longer. _Courageous_ gave another dangerous shake, and he could tell it was really going down, crashing toward Malachor V. The "Evacuate Immediately" girl asked him to please report to his assigned escape shuttle, again. He didn't need to be told a third tim; Jaq started running. 

Having recently been moved to turret duty, Jaq's "assigned escape shuttle" was at the other end of the ship, closer to the bridge--_Why couldn't I keep my big mouth shut?_ Even if there _were_ closer shuttles, he wouldn't be able to take them because his duty card would only activate his assigned bay. It kept things fair...supposedly. As he passed other escape shuttle bays, he noticed dead or dying soldiers lying on the floors. Apparently, keeping things fair only applied to non-combat situations. Jaq thought, _They weren't shot by any enemy. Well, I guess they'd be enemies, now..._ He kept running. Better to go to his assigned shuttle, because it would definitely be there and he had the right codes. Of course, if he were an officer, he could just override the codes and take the first shuttle he came to. _'Might-have-been's will get you nowhere, Rand._ For the moment, keeping things simple would keep him alive.

The ship shook again and Jaq heard the terrible screech of metal "tearing"--a steel beam fell across his path, but he narrowly avoided it by ducking and rolling. He jumped, dodged, and hurdled his way toward the shuttle bay. Up three flights of stairs, down the long corridor that passed the ladies' shower room, up another floor, down the corridor that passed the brig, Rear Admiral Karath's offices, the caf..._No fracking way!_

Jaq felt the urge to stop--_STOP?!_--and turn around. It was so strong that he had already done so and gone five paces before he realized it. He stopped again, willing himself to turn back toward the escape shuttles, but there was nothing he could do. Some innate sense told him, "Go this way." So, as usual, he followed his senses; down a side corridor barely wide enough for two people to pass, up an access ladder to the floor above, and through the (now destroyed) security doors.

More ripping sounds urged Jaq to move faster. He passed a small corridor, but backed up when he realized what he'd seen. There, pinned under a fallen metal beam, was a pilot. His orangish leather flight jacket stood out in stark contrast against the bland gray of the capital ship's walls and floors. "Hey, guy? You alive?" The pilot didn't move, but he groaned loudly enough that Jaq was sure he was fine...well, considering the circumstances.

He closed the gap in just a few steps and set to work assessing the beam. The pilot--a Lieutenant Onasi, the nametag registering on the peripheral of his awareness--was bleeding from somewhere. It was pooling around his middle. _Not a good sign!_ Still, Jaq felt compelled to help the man, and again he went with his instinct. It seemed the beam had fallen across the pilot's legs when the shaking knocked him over. Lifting the beam straight up shouldn't harm the man any more than he already was; Jaq just hoped the pilot could crawl out from under it before he dropped it again. "When I say crawl, you crawl forward like there's a rancor on your tail, got it?" The lieutenant grunted the affirmative.

Jaq straddled the beam, grabbing it with both hands and lifting straight up. Nothing happened. He tried again, closing his eyes and visualizing the beam lifting off the man's body. He concentrated on his hands and shifting the weight up and away from the pilot and, to his surprise, it moved just enough for the man to wiggle away. "Crawl!" Just as the pilot's feet cleared the beam, Jaq lost his grip and it crashed back to the floor. Lieutenant Onasi was already on his feet, holding his side where some other piece of debris must have struck him. "You okay, Lieutenant? Can you walk?" The man again grunted his affirmation, and the two set off toward the escape shuttle bay.

Rounding a corner, Jaq stopped walking. The pilot yelled back at him, "C'mon. You don't wanna wait any longer! Let's go, sold--!" Before the pilot could get out the last syllable, the ship shook again. Hard. It was ripping in two and Jaq and the lieutenant suddenly found themselves separated by a wide crevasse. It was too wide to jump.

"I'll go around. Go on to the shuttles, Lieutenant. Don't wait for me!" Jaq turned to run.

"But..."

Atton yelled over the dying ship, "You're injured, I'm not. Go!"

"T--Thanks." Lieutenant Onasi struggled to get the words out. "Y--You saved my life!" Jaq gave the lieutenant a wide, lopsided grin, and then ran back down the corridor, scrambled up a maintenance ladder, and down a thin hall. _If I am where I think I am..._ There it was: a recessed maintenance panel set in the wall of the ship. Kicking it open, he crawled through the small entrance and up another tiny ladder. Jaq emerged in a wide executive wing just as the ship, in its final death thrall, ripped apart, the pieces spreading slowly toward the planet.

He clung to the railing that lined the walls as the innards of _Courageous_ were exposed to the freezing expanse of deep space above Malachor V. The planet below was glowing green and sucking the larger ships down onto the surface, while the smaller pieces took up orbit--_Whoa! What's going on here?!_ It was then that Jaq realized he wasn't dead.

When the ship's hull ruptured and the ship itself ripped apart, its automatic life-support took effect. Jaq was safe behind the blue glow of a containment field. _There might be enough breathable air to last--_he looked around at his new 'small-but-stable' piece of ship floating above the dead planet_--three days. Good, because that's as long as I can go without water, anyway._ The thought wasn't reassuring.

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When the shuttle reached _Victorious_, it was Revan, herself, who greeted it and supervised Zana's transfer to the medical bay. She had resumed whimpering and mumbling and it wasn't long before Revan ordered her another tranquilizer.

Bao-Dur was fitted with a motorized bio-prosthetic and returned to the ranks immediately, left to wander at the fate of his general.

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**A small piece of the wreckage of the Republic **_**Interdictor**_**-class ship **_**Courageous**_**, in orbit around Malachor V.**

_Three days? Three days?! It's been five, why am I still here? I wanted to be dead before the crazy started! _Jaq waved his hands in the air, shook his head around, and rolled his eyes. The voices had started on the fourth day, hissing their message from the planet below—he knew their chorus by heart. "Blame the Republic! Blame the Jedi!" he yelled into space. "They did this to you!" He punched the air. "That's what you want to show me, right? You've been saying it for two days. I believe you, okay!?" He shook his head at the idea of talking to a disembodied voice, mumbling, "Except Revan. Revan brought whatever Jedi she could, even when their leaders refused and left us to die. She saved us." 

It was at this moment that a ship arrived: _Victorious_. As the tractor beam locked on to his orbiting raft of space junk, Jaq couldn't help but think, _She saved me, again!_

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**Six days after detonation of the Mass Shadow Generator**

**Aboard Republic **_**Interdictor**_**-class ship **_**Victorious**_

"You have defeated the Mandalorian scourge that held our Republic in a death grip and saved many innocent lives by your heroic actions here at Malachor V. I am proud to present Commander Antilles and Lieutenant Bao-Dur with the Cross of Glory, the highest honor in the Republic!" Vice Admiral Leopold pinned an award on each soldier's chest. On the large viewscreens, Antilles beamed with pride, while the Zabrak stood with quiet dignity. The audience full of soldiers--survivors of the Mass Shadow Generator--clapped and cheered. The crews of the other remaining ships, watching on their own viewscreens, were celebrating, as well. It was a bittersweet victory; since regrouping, they realized that their numbers had been severely reduced. 

Unbeknownst to the grunts gathered in the hold, in the aftermath of Malachor V, it was discovered that Bao-Dur's "secret weapon" had destroyed half of the Republic fleet along with the Mandalorians. Perhaps due to miscalculation or underestimation, whole ships were missing, most likely having plunged to the surface of the planet—but, it had won the war, as Revan predicted.

Of the survivors, there were very few injured, and none required lengthy stays in the medical bay. One sentiment moving among the soldiers was, "You either survived...or you didn't." It had become rather popular in the cantina, said before each shot of Corellian whiskey. There were no search parties; there was nothing to search. Malachor V had been ripped apart, its own unique gravity the only thing still holding the pieces together. Electrical storms and quakes raged over the surface, and no one would be landing on the planet for years.

The admiral called for quiet, "Each of you present will also receive a Star of Service." They applauded again, this time more expectant of his next statement. "And, now, with the formalities out of the way, I have one final announcement. The Senate sent a shipment of Corellian whiskey, Tarisian ale, and Telosian and Deralian wines to each ship. Enjoy yourselves!" The soldiers began mumbling, talking amongst themselves, making plans. 

"Commander Antilles, a word," Leopold called to his friend.

"Yes, sir?"

"Where is Commander Revan? I was expecting to meet her. She, too, is to be rewarded for her service, and I have a message from the Jedi Council."

Antilles' brow furrowed, "Revan was feeling...out of sorts." He shrugged. "She asked not to be disturbed. In fact, she and General Malak have likely retired for the night. General Dex--you remember, the one that won us Dxun?--she's in the medical bay--"

"--medical bay? What happened?" He was genuinely concerned.

Commander Antilles smiled, but it was melancholy and without warmth. "Well..." He sighed. "Maybe you should just see her. If you please, Admiral?" He stepped aside to let the man walk past him and toward the nearby exit to the main corridor.

They walked in silence for some time before the admiral spoke, "Alin, tell me what happened to her. I mean, she's the girl, the one that led the siege on Dxun, but what does that…"

Antilles again smiled the melancholy smile, "She is also the Jedi who activated the Mass Shadow Generator, effectively ending the war. There is something wrong, though. Commander Revan couldn't explain it. Master Kae has been working toward healing her, but it is a slow process. The wounds aren't physical. As I understand it, they're within her spirit. The thing the Jedi call 'force.' You know how Jedi are, though; cryptic at the best of times."

As the medical bay doors slid open, Arren Kae looked up slowly. A quiet, handsome woman, the commander always found himself slightly flustered by her constant calm. "Hello, Alin, so nice to see you again." Standing, she bowed. "Vice Admiral Leopold, I presume."

The admiral nodded. "Hello, Master Kae. I have come to see your patient."

"You may look, Admiral, but what you will see is a lie. She is not calmly sleeping. In her mind, she is reliving the death of every soldier on every ship that crashed to the surface and scattered in space. I have tried to gain entrance, but the power of her pain blocks me."

"Will she awaken with time?"

"Honestly, there's no way to know. It is an insidious wound, seeping deeper within her mind as time passes. We shall see how she fares in a few days." Muttering to herself, Kae continued, "The poor girl was always kind and compassionate, but I fear her compassion shall be her undoing this time. She is weak now, but, perhaps...with time..."

The two officers thanked her and left the medical bay--no need disturbing the tranquil atmosphere more than necessary. Both felt agitated. "So, Leopold, how about a drink?" They returned to the party, drowning their discomfort with Tarisian ale.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Former Jedi Master Arren Kae sat next to Zana's bed. The girl lay, much the same as she had when Revan carried her there six days before. Machines pumped sedatives and nourishment into Zana's body, waste and fluids out. Electrodes stimulated her muscles at regular intervals to prevent atrophy. Her breathing was normal, though somewhat shallow, and her throat had developed a rasp after a few days without swallowing.

Kae made minimal attempts to reach Zana's mind, not that she wanted her to wake.

Quite to the contrary, Arren Kae wanted Zana to wallow in the pain, soak it up, make it part of herself. When Revan placed the girl onto a gurney, she implored "Master Kae" to help her friend. Revan, with her mask and hood, trying to hide her new ugliness from everyone as veins formed at her temples and her skin became more ashen by the day. Kae knew the signs. She also thought she understood Revan's motives for turning to the dark side for aid. _After all, it was I who sent her to Malachor V, was it not?_ The fact that Malak did not trust Kae or her motives was no surprise, either. _He knows I sent her and, unlike his wife, he is not blinded by the past._ Malak had tried, unsuccessfully, to question Kae about Revan's first trip to Malachor V on numerous occasions. 

She chuckled at the complexity of her plan.

"No, Zana Dex, it isn't your destiny to be healed of this; but, it _is_ mine to be the knife that twists in the wound, widening it, ensuring it...will...scar." Kae had closed her eyes and as she spoke, pictured the wound in her mind. The last words escaped through gritted teeth, as she stepped into Zana's consciousness.

_"Such a tiny thing when it started, like you." The 'Zana' in Kae's vision was awake and floating upright just above the ground. Her torso glowed with a bright violet ring of light, an oval covering portions of her chest and stomach--it was roughly the length of Master Kae's hand. Inside the ring was...nothing; a void where the Force could not go._

"Why are you doing this to me?" Zana questioned.

"A whelp of a child when you arrived," was all that Kae muttered as she concentrated on expanding the oval, expanding the wound. It had started as a pinprick, at the very center of Zana's being. "It would have healed, in time." The former Master was proud of her progress, "Nearly there."

"Please, let me wake up! I need to wake up!" She was pleading, now. Desperate.

"Stop it, child! Still speaking too much for your own good, I see. You charmed them all so_ quickly...particularly Kavar. Did you know that he chose you for his padawan many years before you were eligible? He laid his claim on you in advance, and tossed Revan aside like so much rubbish."_

"I know...no, he...but…"

"I have no reason to lie to you here_. He threw her away."_

Zana glared at the woman. "No…Yes, but...Leave Kavar out of this!"

"What would Master Vrook say, hearing _**you**__ refer to your master with such...familiarity." The woman chuckled. "He can't love you; you know that--else, you are a glutton for punishment." She continued checking Zana's 'wound' for weaknesses._

"Love is not in your destiny, no matter how much you will it. For you to love, someone must die, and I do not think you shall be willing to take on anymore deaths…particularly his_. You won't remember this conversation, of course, but you shall always remember that the disciple and the fool are not for you—particularly the fool. After all, he would ruin all of my hard work." Kae laughed at that, the idea that __**he**__ or anyone else could heal the damage she wrought. "Hmm...Let me try this." Squinting, she screwed up her face, and put her hands back to back, then extended her arms straight out in front of her. Kae's hands were suddenly claws and she moved them swiftly apart, ripping at the hole, forcing it into ragged edges. "Ah…there it is…"_

The pain overwhelmed Zana, hearing thousands of voices scream her name as the hole ripped even more-- 

--Kae looked up as two officers entered the medical bay. She greeted the admiral and the commander, exuding an aura of quiet visitation. 

"Hello, Master Kae. I have come to see your patient."

Speaking to them briefly, Darth Traya extolled a tale of tragedy laced with just enough reality for it to ring true.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malak sat at the desk, alternately staring at Revan and closing his eyes and pinching his brow, or touching his temple. He had a headache. In fact, he had a _constant_ headache that began the day they installed his vocabulator. The voice of the vocabulator pierced his skull each time he spoke, the sound magnified by its unnatural proximity to his ears. It was directly wired to his brainstem, following his brain's own neuro-pathways, and requiring less modification than would be expected. A feeding tube was located next to the vocabulator, hidden behind the large metal shield, protected. Not that Malak ate anything; it was mostly used for highly caloric, nutrient-rich sludge manufactured somewhere in the Outer Rim, occasionally supplemented by vitamin salts suspended in water.

The medical droids had repaired him well, and he was amazed by how quickly it had become part of his body, instincts, and habits. He no longer felt inhibited by the shield's unappealing appearance; he felt powerful. In a conversation, his disconcerting presence gave him the advantage over others. He was mysterious, perhaps even frightening. Yes, frightening was probably more appropriate. No one had ever been afraid of Malak before; he hadn't realized how intoxicating the effect could become--and it never grew tiresome watching soldiers jump back from him as he turned a corner. 

Malak looked up as Revan stopped pacing. She spoke out loud, but to herself, "A vid, then. That 'Vice Admiral Leopold' must understand that the _Mandalorian threat_ is still out there. He'll believe it, too; all of them will. What could be worse than a second Mandalorian invasion? Whatever it is that's coming will be worse than anything the Mandalorians could inflict…the Republic doesn't need to know that; it would only raise more questions." She glanced at Malak, her face set in the stony expression that rarely changed throughout the day. "What ARE you doing?"

"Watching you."

"Why?" Revan was annoyed. _Again._ He noticed her upper lip moved the tiniest bit, slightly sneering at him. Her yellow eyes searched his face and Malak found himself missing her green ones.

"Because I love you. I mean, you are my wife, even if you _are_ a _schutta_, as they say." Instantly, Malak found himself on the floor against a wall, his head pounding harder. If he could have smiled, he would have grinned at Revan—a spiteful grin without mirth. It was another interesting side effect of his "accident" and subsequent alteration: his speech and manor were emboldened. He often said what he thought, instead of deferring to Revan.

These outbursts and their consequences were growing more numerous.

"How's your jaw?" she asked in a somber tone as she watched him pick himself up off the floor, "Still sore?"

"No. It is becoming accustomed to my biology. The droids assured me that it would...eventually." Malak had awoken on several occasions screaming in pain as his body tried to reject the cybernetic parts. In what was becoming a rare show of affection, she cradled his head and held his hand on each occasion, seeming more like "Serena" and less like "Revan" for those few stolen moments. Then, her jaw would set in disgust and Malak's hopes would sink, realizing he had lost her again.

Dropping back into his chair, he sighed. He knew he was falling, too--it was only a matter of time as long as he stayed with her. And he _would_ stay with her until the end. _Until she kills me._ He had concluded weeks ago that their journey toward the dark side would eventually climax in his own death. In a way, he would welcome it.

The silence lasted a few moments longer before Revan instructed Malak to leave their chambers. She needed utmost privacy and concentration to make the vid believable. The alteration of her appearance to a semblance of normalcy would fool the admiral and his soldiers, but it would drain her. And, thankfully, there were no Jedi onboard his ship; _they_ would spot it immediately.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The vid was labeled "Secure Feed: Vid: Visual and Audio: Source, Commander Serena Revan, Jedi Knight." The young woman on the screen seemed to have a kind of magnetism brought on by experience. She sat at a desk in what appeared to be an apartment on a Republic ship--likely her command ship, _Victorious_. Her face was calm, though her features were slightly drawn and a thin lipped smile appeared, fleetingly, followed by a sigh. She pushed a stray hair behind her ear, toward a thick black bun.

"Vice Admiral Leopold, I am Commander Serena Revan. My apologies for not meeting with you when you were on the ship, but I am much better for the rest. I know it is the Republic's plan for the fleet to return to Coruscant in the wake of our recent victory. However, I am afraid this isn't possible as we will be leaving soon, traveling beyond the rim, into unknown space. The Mandalorians have not been completely dealt with, and I shudder to think of leaving the job half-finished. My duty is to the Republic, and its protection is my utmost concern." She paused, shifting in her seat, sitting up taller. "The campaign continues. It is the Republic's will that we properly route the Mandalorian threat and that's what we'll do; otherwise, no one will be safe. May the Force be with you. End transmission."

The screen went black, and then reverted to a frozen version of the opening shot featuring the commander smiling down at them. Leopold ran a hand over his face. _The Unknown Regions...the girl has guts!_ He knew there would be repercussions when he returned to Coruscant without the remainder of the battle fleet, but it was something he would handle then. She was right. If the Mandalorians were still there, just beyond the Republic's purview...He shuddered at the thought of a second Mandalorian invasion fleet.

Admiral Karath and Vice Admiral Leopold filed quietly out of the room; each lost in his own very different thoughts of the future. Lieutenant Onasi glanced at the screen, wondering why the image kept shifting…something wasn't right about the woman's appearance, but he shrugged and followed his commanding officers out of the room, faintly limping.


	15. Part 15

**Direct continuation from **_**For the Republic: Part 14.**_

**Republic ship **_**Victorious**_**, preparing to leave for the Unknown Regions of the galaxy.**

An optimistic Revan traveled through _Victorious_, followed by curious glances and admiring stares. The soldier couldn't see it, but she was actually smiling--her first genuine smile since Dxun.

Malak was finalizing the navigation plan with the bridge crew and soon they would be on their way to the Unknown Regions and one step closer to finding the Star Forge. As she stepped through the door to their apartment, a strange sensation in the Force caused her to pause. Standing just inside the door, everything seemed fine. She looked around, unable to determine what the odd sensation had been.

Warily, Revan placed a hand on her lightsaber and advanced into the apartment. As she turned toward the living area, she was surprised to find Zana sitting on the lounger. She had forgotten Zana; there was still one thing left to do. She touched a pocket in her robe, confirming its contents. _But..._ In silence, she reached out to Zana through the Force and recoiled at the emptiness she found. It was as if Zana, who Revan could clearly see, was not only "not there," but didn't exist at all. She was invisible through the Force.

"Zana, what are you doing here?" She was glad the mask hid her surprise. "I see you've been released from the med bay." It was the first time they'd spoken since before Malachor V.

Zana nodded curtly and shrugged. "Yeah, Revan, I'm out. Um…Look, we need to talk." Revan watched the general, who was biting her lip, eyes flicking about.

"Right down to business, Zana? Don't we even get to pretend that you're still my friend? I have so few lately. I'm respected, admired, but that's not the same thing." She crossed the room to sit on a chair opposite Zana.

The younger girl proffered a half-smile. "We _are_ friends, whether you recognize it or not. That's why I'm here--"

Revan's demeanor suddenly changed, "Really, Zana. We _don't_ have anything to talk about. You should go."

"WAIT! You aren't going to kick me out until you hear this. I'm worried about you! Now that the war is over, now that we've won, return to the Council with me, please. Surely now, after we've saved the Republic, after all of the deaths we've prevented, they _must_ forgive us and welcome us back. And they can help you, back to the light--"

"I don't need _help_!" Revan removed her mask and hood, feeling somewhat smothered.

Zana gasped at the severity of her friend's transformed features. She yelled at Revan, "Yes, you do! You aren't yourself. You aren't 'Serena Revan!' There's something so...so dark and...and _wrong_ about you now that I find it hard to stay in the same room with you! Please, let me help you...please..." She was begging. Revan couldn't help but think _Pathetic._ as she watched her friend's ministrations.

"Zana, there is nothing you can do for me. I confess…the road I walk now is hard; soon, it will become much harder. As I said before, I haven't fallen to the dark side--to fall is to lose control, and that will not happen. I am here for the same reason you are, to protect the Republic." Revan paused, then leaned forward. "But, you...won't be coming with me, Zana. I'm sorry. As I said before, it _is_ time for you to return to the Council. Tell them what I have told you: I have not fallen, and I only have the Republic's best interests at heart."

Zana felt a strange tingling in her hands just before blackness engulfed her.

As Revan paced around the room, she considered the result of her actions. _Zana will never forgive me._ It echoed through her mind. When Malak entered, she was still pacing. Noticing his astonished look, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him for the first time in weeks. He was momentarily taken aback before giving in to her embrace. No longer able to kiss her lips, he simply held her, stroking her hair. After a few minutes, she looked up into his eyes and he saw her inner turmoil, plain in her expression. "Galen, I just...It's so hard sometimes, to follow the path..."

"But we must. You know that. The consequences of not finding the Star Forge are too dire to consider. Revan, I...I still love you. You know that, right?"

"I know." She sighed heavily and let her cheek rest against his chest. She was only _half_-pretending…as was he. "I need your help." She glanced over at Zana.

"What happened?" His eyes narrowed at Revan. "What have you done?"

Retrieving a micro-needle dispenser from the lounger, Revan slid it back into her pocket. "I injected her with something to make her sleep. But I need to get her onto the _Starling_. She must go back to Coruscant to meet with the Council. It's imperative. Can you take her to the ship?"

"Of course. I will take care of everything. Don't worry, she will be fine." He reached out to trace a finger down her temple to her cheek, wiping at the tears she did not cry.

Lingering only a moment, Malak turned suddenly and hefted Zana's deadweight off the lounger. Revan's eyes communicated her thanks as he carried Zana out into the hall and toward the hanger. Malak, like Revan, was watched as he moved through the ship, but it was with loathing and distrust that the soldier's eyes followed him, and not a small amount of envy, as he carried the girl. On the _Starling_, he placed Zana on a bunk, covering her with a blanket, making her comfortable. "Y--you have been like a sister to me, Zana. I am sorry for what…happened…between us. And I hope, one day, you see that we are sparing you. Safe journey."

He emerged into the hanger bay, spoke with the chief maintenance officer, and requisitioned an astromech droid for the trip. It followed him to the cockpit of the _Starling_, where it input the coordinates for Coruscant. Standing in the viewing deck of the hangar bay, Malak watched as Zana started her journey back to the capital, the Council, and--hopefully--forgiveness. "May we make the same journey one day," he muttered under his breath.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sir! The fleet...they're...they're gone!"

"What? What do you mean, 'gone,' ensign?" The admiral pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Just that, sir. They started moving and then jumped to hyperspace before we even realized what was happening."

"Dammit! They're bound for the Unknown Regions, just as Commander Revan said…Well, I hope she's successful, for the Republic's sake." The young ensign looked up at Vice Admiral Leopold. The older man sighed, then spoke quietly, "Carry on, ensign. We return to Coruscant."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Cold. Cold and..._ "Ahh...!" Zana fell off the bunk, landing hard on the metal floor of the dormitory. Slowly getting to her feet, she stumbled to the refresher and doused her face with cool water. "Life support must be at minimal. Where am I?" She realized she was talking to herself, but after a long, eerie silence and a few moments of claustrophobic panic, she continued enunciating her thoughts; it was comforting. "I was talking to Revan...I..." As she wandered toward the cockpit, she looked down at her hands; they'd gone numb just before…a small red dot on her left hand gave her all of the information she needed. "That bishwag! She drugged me and shipped me out before I could protest--Ahhh!" She jumped back as a small astromech droid entered the corridor.

"Hello. I'm sorry, you scared me. Is there anyone else aboard?"

"Dweet-dwoo."

"Well, do you know who put me on the _Starling_?"

"Dwee, dweet-dwoo-dwee."

"And you're piloting?"

"Doo."

Zana continued past the droid to the cockpit and examined the map and their destination. Judging from the information available, she'd been asleep for two days. _They'll be in the Unknown Regions by now._ She sighed and crossed her arms across her chest. _And they're sending me to Coruscant...fine. Fine, I'll just go to Coruscant. I'll talk to the Council. It will be okay, I mean, it MUST be okay. We saved the Republic...we saved everyone._

For the next week, Zana alternated between examining the blue streaks of stars as they passed in hyperspace and daydreaming about seeing Kavar again. Sometimes images of Tren would invade her dreams, causing her to break down crying, whispering "I'm sorry," and hoping desperately that he could hear her. She may not have loved him, but she was still responsible for his death, regardless of what the dream version of Tren had told her.

As the _Starling_ neared Coruscant, the proximity alarm sounded and they dropped out of hyperspace. "No, don't request docking or landing privileges. Let's just...orbit, for a while." She watched other ships pass by and wondered what their missions were, who was piloting them. She tried to reach out to them with the Force and received a few weak responses before giving up. "Spacers." She rolled her eyes. Sometimes spacers came to the enclave on Dantooine; they weren't her type of people, to say the least.

For two days she orbited Coruscant, but, eventually, supplies began to run low. When the food supply was exhausted, it was obvious that Zana had little choice in the matter. She knew it wouldn't be easy.

"This is Padawan Zana Dex aboard the _Starling_, attempting to reach the Jedi temple."

"We'll send you through, Jedi Dex. Welcome back to Coruscant." The kind docking officer's face was abruptly replaced by that of none other than Master Vrook. His scowl appeared to be deeper than usual. 

"Zana Dex, you are no Jedi padawan! How dare you return after defying the Council in such a way!" It wasn't the greeting she expected.

"Master Vrook, I wish...I wish to…" Her well prepared speech died on her lips. "May I be granted an audience before the Council, Master Vrook?"

"We shall see. Land on the pad outside the temple and report immediately." He grimaced just before the screen went blank.

"Dwoo-dwee?"

"No, just me. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Doo."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Jedi Temple, Coruscant.**

"Hello, I'm Padawan Zana Dex, I have an appointment...I spoke with Master Vrook." She was starting to feel uncomfortable, like she'd made a mistake.

"Yes, hm. 'Dex,' here it is. I am to send you to a temporary apartment." The receptionist, a purple Twi'lek, raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, the Council is calling a special session to speak with you, and they must wait for the masters from Dantooine to arrive." She walked around the front of the desk, "Follow me, please."

They walked in silence down a thin corridor of identical doors, finally stopping at the last door on the right. The receptionist opened it for Zana. "You've been instructed to stay in your room until you are summoned by the Council. Meals will be delivered throughout the day. If you require anything else, there is a comm unit over there against the wall. You have a private 'fresher. Make yourself comfortable, most people stay in here for days." With that, she left, presumably to return to the unmanned front desk.

"Well, they don't trust me, do they?" she said to no one in particular. Zana pushed the only window open and stood in the light, reflecting on the war and the path that brought her to Coruscant. _I thought…_

Throughout the first and second day, padawans and knights, none of whom she knew, visited her room. Some came to bring her meals. Others, books. Some came to proclaim their admiration, and others to berate her for her apparent arrogance. During the night, her sleep was fitful, filled with the screams of Malachor V. The smells of burning flesh and stale blood accompanied the dreams, and she found herself staring at the ceiling by the pre-dawn glow of Coruscant's cityscape.

This was nothing like Zana had imagined. They were _supposed_ to forgive her. They were _supposed_ to see that it had been necessary.

On the third day, she was left alone, only opening the door to accept meals, locking it once more. That night, she feared sleep. Again, standing at the window, Zana watched speeders and transports pass through the sky lanes above, and pedestrians walking below. She listened to the hum of the planet-sized city, only picking up vague echoes of the metropolis surrounding her, puzzled by her diminished senses.

The screams of Malachor were a constant ringing in the back of her mind. And she was lonely. Her thoughts wandered to what Malak and Revan might be doing in the Unknown Regions. She sighed heavily, watching as life went on around her.

There was a light tap-tap-tap at the door. "Surely no one has come to yell at me at this hour!" She crossed the room and abruptly swung the door wide open, ready to defend herself against another verbal attack. Instead, she saw the person standing at the door and her knees wobbled. She took three steps back as he quickly entered and locked the door behind him. "M...Ma..."

He smiled. Finding a safe place for the bottle of wine in his hand, not making eye contact, he asked, "How are you, Padawan Dex?"

"I'm fine. Thank you." She adopted his stilted, formal tone. "How have you been, Master Kavar?"

Hesitation. "I...I've missed you, padawan." He turned and brought his eyes up to meet hers. She was smiling, and his features visibly relaxed.

"Here, let's sit down." She moved a second chair to the small table on which the wine sat, pouring them each a glass and sitting down. Kavar slowly walked over to the table and sat across from her. _He's nervous?_

He sipped his wine before speaking, "You look well. I was worried. We felt the destruction of Malachor V on Dantooine, and they felt it here on Coruscant. I...I hoped you were okay. Later, Vice Admiral Leopold made his report, and it included a vague mention of a young girl of your description in the medical bay. He said she led the charge on Dxun and…and…"

"…activated the Mass Shadow Generator? It's true. I killed Malachor V." She heard the cries rise and fall in the back of her mind. "It was awful when it happened. I don't know how I got off my ship, but it was ripped apart. In fact..." She bit her lip and looked down at the table. "In fact, half the Republic fleet went down with the Mandalorians. If I'd only waited..."

"We heard as much; but, you can't blame yourself, Zana. It will do you no good, regardless of what happened. You stopped the war, something those soldiers were ready to die for." He reached across the table and quickly squeezed her hand, immediately withdrawing it back to his side. "You did well…"

"But, Kavar…" 

"Wait…you know…you can call me 'Loren' if you want. It's what I…always meant to…and, well…"

She managed a feeble grin. "Loren, then…" Such a simple thing to say, and yet, it felt good, after all this time.

They spoke of many things: the past, Dantooine, the Jedi. Finally, Kavar noticed the dark circles under her eyes; they weren't the result of one night spent talking.

"You look so tired. You're not sleeping, are you?" His concern was plain.

"No. It started the first night I was here. I can hear their screams through the Force when I sleep, and sometimes when I'm awake, too." She gulped her wine.

"What about the others? Where's Tren?" Kavar frowned as she stood up and walked to the window, leaving him to sit alone.

For the second time that night he hesitated, considered, and finally crossed the room to Zana. "I'm sorry...Zana..." She was fighting to hold back tears, some already running down her cheeks, dripping off her chin unheeded. "I know you loved him. I'm sorry--"

"No, I didn't love him." She gasped with the ache that came of saying it out loud. "That's why he died. I-I couldn't love him." She sighed and turned from the window to face Kavar. They were inches apart. "I...I was…_am_ in love with…someone else." Their eyes met and she held his gaze for a few silent minutes.

Kavar started backing away. "You know, Zana, I should go before someone notices I'm missing--Vrook will notice, if no one else. And you should get some sleep. You meet with the Council tomorrow, and I...don't think..." He turned and walked toward the door. As he neared it, a hand slipped into his own and he stopped, the other hand half-way to the locking mechanism. Slowly, he looked back over his shoulder at Zana. 

"Loren. You know...I..." Her eyes implored him to understand her meaning.

With a melancholy smile, he replied, "Yes…I've always known..." He held her gaze a moment longer before fully turning to face her. Leaning forward, his lips met hers in a gentle kiss, a kiss so full of love and longing that Zana gasped. She leaned into him, savoring each moment. It took every ounce of strength she had to break that kiss and back away, letting go of his hand, letting _him_ go. She expected Kavar to continue toward the door, but he didn't. He watched her for a moment, and then held out his arms.

Zana couldn't deny what he offered. She moved toward Kavar, allowed him to fold his arms around her as she wrapped her own around his waist and rested her forehead on his shoulder. Her face was next to his neck and she could smell his skin, feel his rapid breathing, hear his pounding heartbeat. "I love you." He whispered it, a delicate truth that seemed terribly fragile, now that it had been spoken.

"I love you, too…I always have." She squeezed him tightly, kissing his neck and his jaw, his cheek, his neck again.

Another whisper, so quiet that it might break and become untrue if spoken too loud, "You know we can't be together, the Council--but we can be _here_, _now_...together..."

They stood entangled for what felt like forever, and then he kissed her cheek, reached down low with one hand and lifted her into his arms. Tightening his grip, he carried her to the bed, gently lowering her down to her back. She reached up, grabbed his robes, and pulled him down to her, kissing him as his belt fell to the floor and layers of robes slid away from his shoulders.

"Loren…"

"I love you, Zana."

Her own robes soon joined his on the floor beside the bed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the first light of morning broke upon the open window, Master Loren Kavar kissed errant Padawan Zana Dex on the forehead. She would need a few more hours of sleep before she met with the Council. He lingered a moment, watching her sleep, thinking of what the future must hold. He loved her far beyond the bond of master with padawan. In another life, he could have married her, they could have been happy. But, he was a Jedi, a member of the High Council…and her master. In another life, they wouldn't have met, at all. _It's the will of the Force; I don't know how else to reason it._ He left a datapad next to her pillow:

_Zana, I wish that I had gotten to tell you goodbye in person. I have a feeling that I know what Vrook's planning: exile. I wanted to warn you, and remind you that I love you._

Yours, Loren.

May the Force be with you. 

He stole quietly out the door, gently closing it behind him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zana awoke to an empty bed. The blankets were cold where he had been sleeping, wrapped around her, for most of the night. A faint smile washed across her features as she thought about him: the weapons master's strong arms around her, the faint smell of leather and sweat, his bright blue eyes and happy smile. _He loves me!_ She still couldn't believe it.

She couldn't help but feel giddy and, for a moment, forgot why she was in the Jedi Temple. She rolled over, intent on sleeping a bit longer, when she noticed a datapad next to her head. She picked it up calmly, but as she read, her happy disposition became bitter anger and she paced the room. "Exile?! What does he mean, 'exile?' They can't do that to me! We saved the Republic! I ended the…exile? No. They can't do it."

Zana took a quick shower, which did nothing to douse her anger, and threw a plain brown set of robes on over civilian clothing. They were the one set not stained with blood or ripped by blaster fire. She had thought to don an outfit bearing the wear-and-tear of battle, but if they had already made up their minds, at least her dignity would remain intact. Fuming, she grabbed her 'saber and pack and stomped away to the council chambers.

The doors slid open in front of her, and she was greeted by stunned expressions on four of the five masters' faces. Kavar looked completely unsurprised, though his expression made her feel the worst because the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Padawan Dex, you have not yet been summoned--"

She glared at him. "Is that so, Vrook?" Master Vrook's face flushed red, while Master Vash gasped. "I decided it was time for you to talk to me. I have come before this council to seek forgiveness for my involvement in the war with the Mandalorians and to present my report. I also bear a message from Serena Revan: she wished me to inform you that she acts only with the good of the Republic in mind. However, from my treatment since I arrived, I can see that you aren't really all that interested in what I have to say. True?" She glanced at Kavar, but he was avoiding her eyes.

Master Vrook had tried to break into her diatribe more than once and finally took his opportunity, "Zana Dex, you are out of line. This is not acceptable. Not only will we not be granting any _forgiveness_ for one such as you, who disobeyed the Council in such a way, but we will not be hearing any report, or anything else you have to say. You are finished speaking, _Miss_ Dex."

"No, I am not—"

"Finished. Now you will listen to our judgment of you and your kind of outlaw Jedi."

"You are exiled, and you are a Jedi no longer. It is a lie to call yourself 'Jedi,' to taint the name of our order with your miscreant behavior." Master Vash looked vaguely apologetic as she spoke, but Zana failed to notice. "You have fallen to the dark side, along with the other Jedi who are now with Revan." At Zana's surprised look, Vash softened, "Zana…"

"The...the dark side? I haven't..."

Master Atris broke-in, her icy voice echoing across the hall, "You will not wear the sacred robes of the Jedi. When we are finished, you will return to your room, change clothes, and relinquish your robes." Zana immediately unbuckled her belt and stripped the robes off her body, throwing them at Atris' feet. Having expected as much, she silently thanked the Force for the foresight to wear clothes underneath. However, her sudden disrobement had caused more than one Council member to gasp. She flung the other robes from her pack at Atris, as well, and Kavar couldn't help but smile at the young master's flustered expression, though his mirth was fleeting.

"There is one last thing. Your lightsaber. Surrender it to us." Vrook's disgust was apparent in his tone and it only fueled Zana's anger. She purposefully stepped toward the center stone, raised her lightsaber, and thrust it in, hilt deep. Deactivating it, she walked over to Vrook and dropped it in his lap. "Insolence of this nature is to be expected in one such as you, Zana Dex. You are exiled from the Jedi Order; do not return to these halls."

Biting her lip, desperately controlling her emotions, Zana stalked out of the room, scooping up her pack along the way. She moved quickly down the long corridor, and ducked into the nearest refresher. Leaning against one wall and sliding down to the floor, the former Jedi finally allowed her tears to fall.

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When they were sure she was gone, the Jedi masters stood and examined the center stone. Where her 'saber had penetrated, there was a burned scar, a deep tunnel through the heart of the stone. It would serve to remind them of what they had done to the girl, and Kavar wasn't the only one who thought this was fitting.

"Do you think we should have told her?" It was the first time Master Ell had spoken since the Council convened.

"Of course not. It would only complicate things and possibly do more harm than good. Her welfare is not our concern. We are _dealing_ with the _future_ of the _Republic_." 

Kavar shot Vrook a sour look. "And what do you think _she_ has been doing for the past year and a half? She has seen more in that period than she should have seen in a lifetime; it has changed her, left her empty. And her reward for protecting the Republic is to be exiled because we fear…what? That her unique abilities will—"

"It is well and good for you to have a care for the well-being of your former padawan, Kavar. Mind your emotions, however, for they betray your attachment to her. Shall we discuss your meeting last night, or can we get on with our duties?" 

Master Vrook fixed Kavar with a knowing look, daring him to speak again, but Kavar ignored him.

"Did you not notice the blank spot in the Force, standing right in front of you? The way the Force was drawn to her, as many of _us_ have been drawn to her at one time or another? It is something she should know; that is all."

Atris sniffed and rubbed her temples. "It is better for her to remain in ignorance of her condition. Did _you_ not notice that she was no longer actually _connected_ to the Force, at all? She was as mundane as any non-Force sensitive passing on the street, but even they are detectable. She was nothing and nowhere. I'm surprised she could ignite her lightsaber; surely it took all of her effort to do so. She will not last long without the Force." She looked at each of the masters in turn, "Would we?"

"And why think on it? It is a self-imposed punishment, now, but one we had considered for her and all of the traitors before today. Let us continue with our duties at hand…" Master Vash began discussing the negotiations between two small planets in a distant system, and Master Kavar stepped out for some fresh air.

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Having recovered her wits, Zana stormed out of the Jedi temple, knocking down more than a few padawans who happened to cross her path. She ran down to the temple's long staircase and threw herself up the _Starling_'s boarding ramp. As the droid initialized pre-flight checks and set their course for Tatooine, she sat in the pilot's seat, eyes closed, trying to touch the Force--trying to fill the emptiness she found clawing at her sanity. 

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He leaned against the temple, in the shadow of a balcony, and lit a cigarra. Kavar smoked methodically, trying to clear his mind. The _Starling_ sat on a landing pad not far from where he stood, and it was here that he focused his attention. A girl: short black hair, black tunic and tanned leather pants, Republic-issued boots...she was running...fleeing the temple, not even glancing back. She passed him without notice, sobbing. Her thoughts involuntarily screamed out at him: _WHY?! After losing so much?! And Kavar…Loren...FRACK!_

Kavar blinked hard a few times, willing his watery vision to clear as he watched her enter the ship and, minutes later, take off. He was sure it was the last he would see of her, whispering to himself, "What I would not give to go with you...but, my place is here, and I think you knew that. I will miss you, my padawan..." _...my love..._ He turned and walked back into the Jedi temple, repeating, _There is no emotion, there is peace; there is no ignorance, there is knowledge; there is no passion, there is serenity..._and willing himself to believe it.


	16. Part 15 Vrook

A/N: I always pictured "Vrook" as Master Vrook's last name, even though I knew his full name was Vrook Lamar. I will assume it follows the protocol of some Asian cultures to write surname first followed by given name. So, in my story Vrook's given name is Lamar. And, of course, Loren is "Loren Kavar." Please remember Kavar (65+) and Vrook (95+) may be old in numbers, but the Force has kept them physically younger (as they appear in-game). Thanks for reading. I hope this small chapter will hold you over until Part 16 is out of beta, edited, and submitted. Not much longer, promise. :) - Lene

**...If you find me overly critical, perhaps it is because you do not fully understand what is at stake..."**

- Jedi Master Vrook Lamar to Padawan Serena Kae, just before her journey to find the Star Maps

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**Jedi Temple, Coruscant; on the eve of errant Jedi Padawan Zana Dex's trial and exile at the end of the Mandalorian Wars**

_The words._ The words always came out wrong. Too dry. Too hard. Master Vrook Lamar shook his head, wondering what happened. He hadn't always been this cynical. Nor had he always been so cold toward the younger Jedi. It was a subject on which he and Vandar had spent many nights on Dantooine contemplating. _When did I change...and why?_

He sat perfectly still, sinking deep into meditation and waiting for answers from the Force...

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**Jedi Temple, Coruscant, 52 years before**

Lamar watched as his young padawan used telekinesis to set the table for dinner. The boy moved bowls across the room, each fragile dish landing harmlessly on the table in front of a chair. He was pleased with Padawan Kavar's progress. "Alright, Loren, go wash-up, and I'll see if Illyna needs any help." He smiled at the teenager, who hurried away to the refresher.

Wandering into their small kitchenette, Lamar reached out and pinched his wife's bottom.

"Hey! Hello, my dear." As she turned, he wrapped his arms gently around her and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. She said, "Dinner is almost ready. Did Loren set the table?"

"Of course. He's really coming along. Have _you_ been working with him?" he asked suspiciously.

"Only a little. He seemed to need an extra push to improve. You know how he is with weaponry; I just needed to demonstrate that he could use his mind as a weapon, too."

Lamar gave her a dubious look, arching an eyebrow and trying to appear stern. "What did you do?"

"Well..." she giggled, "Let's just say we seem to be missing a few teacups...the ones we rarely used..." 

He chuckled as well, and kissed her again. "I love you, my dear. Thank you for your patience, with us both."

She "tut"-ed and hurried him out of the kitchen just as someone knocked on the chamber door. "I wonder who..."

"I'll answer the door." He sent her scurrying back into the kitchen as he fixed his face with a serious look befitting his rank as Jedi Knight. Standing outside the door was Padawan Atris. "What may I do for you, child?"

She bowed low and meekly watched his chest as she spoke, "Knight Vrook, you are needed…s-summoned to the Council chambers immediately."

"Of course. Thank you." She bowed again, hurrying along the corridor. Illyna reemerged from the kitchenette carrying a large platter of food. "I'm afraid I won't be here for dinner, at least not until later. I've been summoned...again." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Please see that Loren eats, particularly the vegetables...you know how he is. I'll be back soon."

As the door slammed behind his master, Loren entered from the adjoining chamber. "Where'd Lamar go? Did they call him? Gah. That's like...the fifth time in two weeks!"

"Well, Loren, Exar waits for no man, particularly when that man's dinner is just being put on the table." Her eyes were shadowed and Loren jumped up to hug her.

"It's okay, Illyna. They'll find a way to fix things and bring him back to the Light. And Knight Qel-Droma, too, I'm sure of it..." He sat down and began quickly devouring the meal. She watched him, admiring how he had grown in the ten years he had been her husband's padawan learner. The fourteen-year-old in front of her bore only a slight resemblance to that scared little boy.

"Loren...last night, I had a vision. Would you like to know what it was? It was about you..."

"Yeah, sure, Illyna." Loren had long grown accustomed to Illyna's sharing of visions over dinner. Living with a seer made one slightly less astonished when hearing the future. "Can I go see Jolee after dinner? He wanted to spar for a—"

"Please stop, alright? This one is...this is serious, Loren." He dropped his utensils and watched her curiously. "You will...One day, you will meet a girl--you will know her when you see her, the Force will make it so. She is...precious...to the future of the galaxy, Loren." She took a deep breath and let it out in one smooth motion. "No matter what happens between now and then, you must not hesitate to train her as your padawan. It is the will of the Force; do you understand?"

He felt the depth of her vision wash over him. "Me? But...but I'm nobody, Illyna. How could _I_ train someone so important?"

Illyna smiled warmly at him. "You will train many of great consequence--do not under-value yourself--and she will be the _most_ important. This is integral."

"I understand. I do. It's just..." He nodded to her and began eating again. Whatever his doubts might be, she never did find out. They finished the meal in comfortable silence and Illyna sent Padawan Kavar to an early bed. 

A bit later, Illyna sat, silently listening, in her favorite chair. Lamar's emotions lapped as small waves upon her mind: he was frustrated, a bit angry, even a little fearful. _What are they doing in there?_ She was sure it had to do with her brother. Everything, these days, had to do with her brother. _Exar, where are you?_

Had Illyna been invited to the Council chambers, as well, she would have known the answer. Vrook Lamar paced around the center of the room as various council members spoke. He listened carefully, shaking his head, trying to sort out his thoughts. Draay had forbidden him to speak until the others were finished.

When the councilors finally fell silent, he stopped and looked around the room. Master Draay addressed Lamar, "Knight Vrook, please, if you wish to say anything before accepting this assignment, we would hear you now."

"Very well. I understand the urgency of such a mission, and we shall leave immediately. However, we will not go without Illyna. I will take her with me, not because she is my wife--do not misunderstand--but because she should know what her brother is up to. She might even be able to offer some insight into his plans if we are close enough for her 'see.'" He stood perfectly still, awaiting their reactions to such demands.

Master Draay nodded resignedly. "Very well. Knight Vrook shall take Knight Kun and Padawan Kavar with him to Yavin. You should leave immediately. Do not land or disembark. Watch. Wait. Be our eyes so that we may make an informed decision. War, I fear, is unavoidable; but it is never too late to try to head-off undue bloodshed. You are dismissed, Knight Vrook."

He bowed deeply to the masters and returned, sullen, to their chambers. Illyna was there, asleep in her chair. He kissed her forehead, lifted her gently, and carried her to bed. _It will take a few hours to pack and awaken Loren, anyway. She should sleep while she can._

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For ten days they had been watching Exar Kun's ships come and go from Yavin: freighters, fighters, strange looking ships that were unidentifiable. Having gathered as much information as they could, Vrook felt they should go before their luck ran out. _There is no luck...just the will of the Force,_ he reminded himself. He looked over at Illyna, who appeared haggard and drawn. "My dear, are you alright?"

"Yes...yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry I've been so quiet of late. I cannot help but feel that something terrible is happening, right now, on that planet. But, I cannot see. Something blocks my vision; it is as if I were blind to most of the Force."

"Your brother?"

"Yes...I'm afraid he..." Her eyes widened. "We should go! Now!"

"What?!" It was an automatic response, but they were both already up and moving. In the eight years of their marriage, he had learned enough not to stop and question her instincts. He just ran to the cockpit, throwing himself into the pilot's seat and strapping in. "Kavar! Now!" The boy joined him, strapping himself in beside his master. Illyna appeared on the small viewscreen beside him, apparently taking up the turret at the back of the ship.

"Get us out of here, Lamar! Hurry!" The screen went blank, but he could hear her turret firing behind them. He pulled the ship around, pointing it toward space as four small, black fighters flew overhead. Passed them. Circled around to attack.

"Fly, Loren!" 

Vrook started punching in a hyperspace route, knowing there was nothing to do but try to out-maneuver the enemy. They couldn't jump to hyperspace until their path was clear. As he typed, he heard his name called through the Force--_Lamar!_ It was Illyna, but right now was not the time—he had nearly completed mapping their coordinates. Entering the last numbers, he heard it again, fainter this time. _lamar...i love you..._

A pain shot through his chest as he rushed through the ship to the small room housing Illyna and her turret. When he pressed the door release, nothing happened. He pressed it again. He smashed it with his fist in desperation. "Illyna, are you there?! Illyna!" No.

He'd felt the emptiness of the room, her missing presence, but he hadn't wanted to believe. _Illyna..._

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Taking the ship into hyperspace and setting the auto-pilot, Loren climbed out of his seat and ran to the back of the ship. The sight of Vrook Lamar huddled on the metal floor, completely catatonic and leaned against the wall, was unnerving. "Master?" Nothing. Vrook never blinked or moved. "Illyna?!" Still nothing. He looked at his master, at the smashed panel beside the door. _Oh, no..._

He returned to the cockpit, reciting the Jedi Code, focusing on the final words: "There is no death, there is only the Force." They were the only thing that kept him sane on the long journey back to Coruscant, alone in the ship with the despondent Jedi Knight and his wife's body.

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The pair returned to the temple--to the Council--and made a thorough report. The information was vital, and it would help them decide whether or not all-out war was imminent. It would likely save countless lives, as well. What should have been a time of accomplishment, however, was overshadowed by the empty spot in both of their hearts. "Knight Illyna Kun's funeral shall commence momentarily. You are dismissed."

Loren walked beside his master, both looking forlorn and fatigued. Illyna's body followed them through the temple; they watched as she burned atop a pyre in the crematorium, and then they filed out again. There were no words to be said, and they walked in silence for most of the distance.

In fact, neither had said much of anything since Yavin; but, as they reached their chambers, Vrook stopped and looked over at the boy. "You have been...you were like a son to her...to us..." He took a deep breath. "And as such, I would like to give you some advice: Loren, never endanger your connection to the Light by falling in love. I feel my own growing thin and weary as we speak. It would hurt her to know it, but...but if I could take it back, take back loving Illyna, I would. Avoiding the heartache I feel now would be worth it. Besides, she wouldn't have even been on the ship if I hadn't...if I hadn't insisted."

Loren barely recognized the man before him--he looked stern, angry, completely unlike his former self. Vrook must have noticed his worried expression because he added, "Do not worry, padawan. I won't be joining Exar any time soon. Loren, learn from my mistake, from Nomi's mistake--that is all that I ask. We are fools, who love and expect to be immune to its corrupting influence. How Nomi stays true to the Light, I cannot fathom...Ulic Qel-Droma's fall was...most unexpected. She, of all people, has a right to feel angry and betrayed."

Lamar paused and examined the young man in front of him. The boy's red-rimmed eyes look bluer than ever, though bloodshot with grief and exhaustion. "Love is for fools. You would do well to remember _that_ as the most important thing I can teach you. Now, go to bed. Get some rest and meet me for meditation in my room at sunrise. Tomorrow is a new day, and we begin again."

The padawan bowed to his master as Knight Vrook turned and headed back down the hall, perhaps for a walk in the gardens. Loren ambled to his own room and lay in bed for hours, watching the moon rise, counting the cracks in the walls and the ceiling, anything to avoid thoughts of Illyna.

It was very late in the night when he heard someone enter the room next door and fall into bed. He pictured his master lying alone, for the first time, in the bed he had shared with her. A few moments later, he could hear Vrook sobbing, finally letting go and embracing the sorrow that had threatened to engulf them both all day. Loren let out a gasp of his own and felt a tear slip down his cheek. Soon, he was crying, too, and, not long after that, he found himself rolling out of bed. Slipping on his trousers, and padding across the floor, he quietly opened the passage between the two rooms.

His master looked up, poised to send him back to bed. Instead, when he saw the glistening trails of tears on Loren's cheeks, he beckoned him over and embraced him, as Loren imagined a father might embrace a son--one silently consoling the other. They stayed that way long into the night, and by the time Lamar sent the boy back to his bed, their tears had been spent.

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**Jedi Temple, Coruscant, the morning before Zana Dex's trial was scheduled to begin**

Master Vrook Lamar opened his eyes and sighed. He felt his bones creak as he stood, allowing the Force to aid the movement. He felt his age every time he meditated, the cold stone tiles wreaking havoc on his joints. But he was a creature of habit...and he knew that some part of him believed he deserved it, as punishment for Illyna.

Sighing again, Vrook left his temporary apartment, making his way toward the Council chambers. He disliked being back on Coruscant. The temple was...quieter than it had been in those days. _So many were lost to the wars._ Even now, Revan had most of the younger Jedi under her command, fallen to the dark side. They were lost and blind to the Light, at least for now.

A noise in the perpendicular corridor ahead caused him to scowl. Stepping quickly forward, he reached the hallway just in time to see Kavar disappearing in the opposite direction. _As I thought. Leaving Padawan Dex's chambers..._ His scowl deepened, but he immediately forced himself to calmness. The memories he'd seen in meditation were fresh on his mind, and he just shook his head. _You didn't listen, did you?_

He knew Kavar and his capacity for caring--it was part of his good nature. And it had been the wedge that drove them apart. Not the war, not the death of so many friends and allies. At some point after Illyna's death, Lamar had stopped caring...

In the Council chambers, he made a point of looking toward Kavar.

But Kavar was going out of his way _not_ to look at any of the other Master Jedi. He leaned nonchalantly in his chair, angled just slightly away from the others. _I hope you know what you're doing, boy._

When Padawan Dex stormed into the room and Kavar jerked around, Vrook didn't miss the smug quirk of a smile on his face, too faint for anyone else to notice.

And when she stalked out, newly exiled and discharged from the Order, Kavar's feelings were made quite clear.

_The words..._ He knew he'd been too hard on her. His words had come out harsher than intended.

Only the Council remained, examining the damage she had wrought to the sacred center stone. It was then that Kavar turned his gaze on Vrook, staring hard at his former master. But, then he turned away, and it was Zez Kai Ell who spoke first, "Do you think we should have told her?"

Vrook responded instinctively...properly, "Of course not. It would only complicate things and possibly do more harm than good. Her welfare is not our concern. We are _dealing_ with the _future_ of the _Republic_." 

_The words..._ He regretted them the moment they were uttered. Kavar wheeled around.

His former padawan's frustrated emotions boiled off of him even before the fiery protest left his mouth. "And what do you think _she_ has been doing for the past year and a half..."

Master Vrook gritted his teeth, issuing a stony reply, "It is well and good for you to have a care for the well-being of your former padawan, Kavar. Mind your emotions, however, for they betray your attachment to her. Shall we discuss your meeting last night, or can we get on with our duties?"

He was amazed when Kavar actually ignored him and continued to argue; it was so unlike "the boy" to be this brash and unreasonable. But, instead of following up on his threat, Vrook let it go. His heart wasn't in it. He knew how it felt to love, he thought with a pang of sadness, and he knew how it felt to lose that love...

_Illyna..._

Watching the younger Master Jedi stride out of the Council hall, Lamar felt nothing but sympathy for him.

He hoped Kavar would not turn out to be as harsh and cynical in old age as his former master, who had nothing left but words that always came out wrong and a broken heart that could never truly find peace.


	17. Part 16

**Six weeks after leaving known space at the end of **_**For the Republic: Part 15.**_

**Sehorn, a small, volcanic planet orbiting the white dwarf Jorn, Unknown Regions**

Sehorn slowly began to fill the viewport. It was a tiny black ball, the surface covered in sharp, black obsidian and volcanic ridges. Even at this distance, the sun glinted off of the surface, and as they drew nearer, Revan heard…singing. Emerging from the stony surface was a forest. Trees jutted out of the solid ground, shafts of life on a seemingly dead planet, struggling to reach the pale light of the small white sun. They sang through the Force, recounting their labors to grow and produce offspring, and their joy at being alive.

As soon as their shuttle touched down, Revan lowered the ramp. She tugged off her boots and leggings, leaving them behind, and ran—barefoot—onto the plain. The sharp glass cut her feet, making them slick with blood, and she slipped more than once. Slashed legs, gouged palms, she paid them no heed. Her eyes took in the glossy rock and the valiant trees. _Yes, this is the place._

Finally, she reached the edge of the forest, tripping to close the distance, stumbling into its shady embrace.

It was eerily silent within the canopy, and the trees sang to her. They thanked her for coming when they called. She glanced up to see Malak running toward her from the shuttle. He was less than twenty pace away and yelling, yet somehow she couldn't hear him. Finally, he reached the shade of the trees—

"—the fracking hell…" He froze, stunned by the silence, no longer able to hear the shuttle engines or the milling soldiers, a few of which had broken off, following Malak toward the woods. He stared at Revan. "What is this?"

"I'd bet it works both ways. The forest somehow blocks noise in and out," she whispered. The two stood apart, at ease in the quiet, calmed by the tranquil song of the trees.

As she watched the soldiers draw closer, Revan hissed, "Come on!" They stepped out of the forest, out of the shadow of the trees.

"—mander Revan!" The four men came to a halt before Revan.

"No one is to come any closer to these woods. They will remain untouched, sacrosanct. Do you understand?" They nodded. "I will personally handle anyone who crosses into this forest." She needed a way to reinforce the threat. _A way to--Ah-ha! _

The weakest of the group suddenly lifted into the air, grabbing at his neck, gasping for breath and flailing his limbs. It was a potent technique, unexplored at the Jedi enclave, and the rush of power and excitement made her giddy. The astonished gasps of his companions brought her back to her senses, but she realized she had waited far too long to release the man. Relaxing her hold, Revan dropped him into a pile on the ground.

"You…you killed him?" The other men were backing away from their fallen comrade.

_What have I done?_ Even as she cursed the darkness within her, Revan thanked the Force she was wearing a mask. It hid the sorrowful grin that slid across her features. She was more than a little surprised at the bitter disdain she felt for the crumpled pile of 'human' in front of her. _So mundane. So easy to kill. Is this what we fight to protect?_ Repelled by the thought, by her nihilistic disregard, Revan began the grueling trek back to the shuttle, every step excruciating, perched perilously between incapacitating pain and pure ecstasy. A bleak emptiness lurked at the edge of her senses. The trees continued to sing, but that, too, was decidedly darker.

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Malak watched as Revan calmly walked past the dead man. Black robes swished around bare legs as she picked her way across the sharp plain, leaving a path of sanguine footprints in her wake. There was something foreboding in that bloody trail, but Malak dismissed it—as was his habit of late--and followed her back to the ship. 

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General Yusanis' training contingent arrived at Victorious the next day. Revan had requested their services, and she was rather surprised not to see the general among the Echani warriors. "Is General Yusanis planning to join us?"

The Echani exchanged nervous looks, "Commander, it is our humble regret to inform you that General Yusanis has suffered a death in his, uh, family and will not be coming. He expressed his apologies before we left. And, I would like to assure you, these warriors are the best."

"Very well, this arrangement will do. Construction of the temporary structures on the surface is almost complete. If you will follow me…" 

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Striding through the camp on Sehorn eight days later, Revan was shocked at the level of discipline and control the Echani had achieved with her soldiers. Yusanis had lived up to his word. As if to prove the point, Revan happened to pass an active practice room and stopped to observe. Multiple small groups of Republic men and women were sparring; a few held long staffs, others swung dull practice blades. All appeared to be highly skilled.

But it wasn't the sparring pairs that caught Revan's eye. The room was aglow with the electricity of their movements. Some shone more brightly than others and she took note of their names and faces, following their maneuvers, admiring the art of Echani combat.

As she watched, Revan felt a sudden wave of loathing wash over her. She reached out with all of her senses and, from the corner of her vision, she spied a man with a longsword edging toward her. She touched his mind, plucking thoughts form his brain like Deralian grapes: _Traitor…Malachor V…so many…traitor…traitor to everyone…the Republic…_

He inched closer, silent, slinking along the wall behind Revan. Just within reach, he lunged at her and she threw up a hand, immediately placing the man in stasis. His wide, fearful eyes watched Revan, who smirked at him. Then she spoke, projecting loudly over the din, "This man is an assassin and a traitor to the Republic. Who would like to punish him? I need a volunteer."

The room fell silent and no one moved, so Revan gestured toward the man closest to her, who nervously stumbled over to her side. "Will you dispatch the traitor for me?"

"I, uh, of course, Commander." She handed him the assassin's blade and moved aside to provide a clear target. The soldier stood very still, just looking at the man for many long seconds before he dropped the blade. He clutched at his neck, trying desperately to find the air that was suddenly missing.

As he collapsed to the floor, Revan sighed and turned once more to address the room, "Another volunteer? Perhaps one who will not hesitate?"

One of the younger men—_a boy really, maybe Zana's age_—strutted up to her. "Jaq Rand, at your service, Commander Revan." He snapped a smart salute and looked directly at her masked face. He was arrogant…_no, he is confident._ "I would be honored to punish the traitor."

Revan's mask hid her smile. _It's not confidence, is it? You're a sly one, Mr. Rand. I barely caught your trick._ She returned his salute with a nod. _You've got guts to try that on me…strong for natural bravado, though..._She pressed deeper to detect his need to please her, his doubts, his fears beneath the layer of forced confidence.

"Okay, Jaq, he's yours." She pulled the blade to her and handed it to him.

Revan's smile widened when the splattering sound of the man's gut emptying onto the floor echoed across the still room. The eviscerated would-be assassin writhed on his back at Jaq's feet—Jaq, who had just proven his loyalty beyond a doubt. On her brief excursion into his mind, Revan had seen that this was his first kill, _up close and personal_, as his thought had read.

"Imaginative, Mr. Rand. Very well done." She felt his doubts recede, if only slightly. "I have a feeling you will be an asset to our cause." As she turned, flourishing her cape, she heard him snap another salute into place behind her. _If only they were all like you, Mr. Rand. _

The cleaning droids passed her on her way out, just arriving to remove the man, who had finally died, and his mess.

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Jaq waited until Commander Revan was out of sight before walking quickly to the 'fresher to lose the contents of his _own_ stomach. _I just--but she noticed me! She was impressed, even._ He retched again. _Ugh, how could I--he tried to kill her. Now, __**I**__ saved __**her!**_

He felt a new feeling, a swelling in his chest that brought out his well-practiced smirk: pride. Splashing cold water on his face, Jaq washed, rinsing away his uncertainty, his second thoughts, and the image of the man he had just murdered in cold blood.

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Revan and Malak left Sehorn on the tenth day of training, having postponed their search for the Star Forge as long as possible. Leaving the Echani in charge, they took a small ship in search of the four remaining star maps.

With Malak's coordinates from Trayus Academy, the pair made short work of the list. They sank to the depths of Manaan's Hrakert Rift, sped across the Dune Sea of Tatooine, and hiked through the giant forests of Kashyyyk. Revan learned many things about the Builders, their Infinite Empire, and their lust for power. They were exclusively users of the dark side of the Force and infused everything they created with innate dark energies. But the vision had clearly shown Revan and Malak on the deck of the Star Forge, staying the arrival of an impending darkness, so Revan pressed forward.

They were closing in on the final planet when Malak felt his doubts begin to surface. "Serena, just tell me it is worth it. Can its power truly be controlled?" He paused, watching her. He knew their destination, and the likely path that they would take. The Jedi archives had been full of such information, anything to prevent another atrocity the likes of Exar Kun and his army. "Revan, what is our destiny?"

Revan didn't respond. Instead, she turned away from him and activated the ship's landing protocol. Her silence was the answer Malak had dreaded. He turned his back to hers, gazing out at the planet below.

-------------------------------------------------------

**Korriban, Sith funeral planet, Known Space**

They stood together in front of the tomb indicated by Malak's coordinates; its inscription read, "Naga Sadow."

He decided to try one last time. If it didn't work, he'd follow her to the dark side; there was no question. He couldn't live without her, so there was nothing else to do. "Serena…you know…"

She stopped, still turned away. He could feel her raise an eyebrow at him, even if he couldn't see it.

"This is it, Serena. There is no turning back after this. We will have the Star Forge; we will be able to defend the Republic. But, I am worried. I…you _are_ falling, aren't you?" He flinched at the attack that never came. She simply turned to face Malak and calmly returned to his side as he continued. "And this is the last step. Things…happen…here. They have in the past, they will now. Is there _nothing_ I can do?"

"No." She gently touched his arm, running her fingers up and down the soft fabric of his robes. "You're right; this is it. Whatever happens here, we can't turn back. But, it'll be okay. It will. We're about to secure enough power to protect the Republic, indefinitely." Her hand lingered a moment longer before she was gone, advancing up the steps and toward the tomb.

Malak didn't move. _Serena, I fall with you, my love. _

She scowled at him over her shoulder. _Of course not. Stop acting like Zana._

They entered the tomb silently, trying to discern any click that might indicate a trap, any whir that would signal the arrival of a droid. Only their footsteps echoed around them. The pair inched forward, always following Malak's coordinates, wandering the dark tomb for hours.

Finally, using the Force to unblock yet another passageway, Revan felt a surge all around her. There, just ahead, was the final star map. While Malak quickly set to downloading the coordinates and any other relevant information, Revan felt drawn to explore the adjoining chamber.

The room was expansive and rectangular, hollow and unadorned, except that the walls were lined with small red pyramids. _Sith holocrons!_ Revan started backing away as a few of the holocrons lit-up, casting a soft red ambiance about the chamber.

"Hello there, my dear." The voice belonged to the small projection of a woman, just younger than middle aged, with a kindly face. "Well? Don't be rude."

"Oh. Hello?"

Malak stalked up to Revan, clearly distressed. "Those are not safe. I have the final map, we should go. Now!"

"What's wrong, tall one? Afraid of us? I really don't think we are a threat to you." She chuckled, then asked, drawing out the syllables, her voice turning sultry and dark, "What is it you want, young ones?"

Malak grabbed at Revan's arm, but she shoved his hand away. "Well, I was just looking. I didn't know…Why are you here? Did someone bury your holocrons?"

Her reply was a single word that rang across the chamber: "Knowledge."

"What can _you_ teach me? You're Sith."

"So are you, my dear. So are you."

"I…" Revan's brow furrowed, "What do you mean? I'm no Sith."

"Ask the tall one. While you're at it, ask him what Exar found here, in the tomb of Naga Sadow." The holocron image reverently whispered the name of the dead Sith lord.

"Malak? What does she mean?" Revan narrowed her eyes at him, confused. _The woman's words…_ The woman's words seemed to get under her skin, crawling around in her mind.

"I--Revan..." He sighed. "Exar Kun came here, to the Valley of the Sith Lords—yes, I know this place; I have read about it in the Jedi archives. He came here as a Jedi knight and left here as a _fallen Jedi_. The accounts of his tale indicate he found a cache of Sith holocrons…" Malak gestured around the room. "It seems you have found them, as well." He grabbed at her arm again, taking a step back toward the door.

"And why did she call me _Sith_?" 

"Do I really need to _explain_? Even I can feel the dark side as it courses through you. It calls to me, tempting me to embrace it. I love you, even now, and I do not know if I am strong enough to resist it much longer." The yearning in his voice made Revan's heart clench.

She touched her mask, traced the phrik lines and cool durasteel. Calmly removing it, dropping the cowl and hood, Revan exposed her transfigured face. "What do you see, Sith? Do you see one of your own?"

"I do, _Lord Revan_. In fact, I see _two_."

"Lord Revan." Malak scowled as Revan whispered the name, testing the sound of it. "It is…it is enticing. I must know can I protect the Republic using the Star Forge. What does your 'knowledge' tell you?"

"The Republic has always been weak, my Lord. Even in the days of its prime, it was lacking strong leadership. Such is the downfall of allowing them to rule themselves. The people led shielded, complacent lives. Their Senators debated relentlessly, never accomplishing anything, only doing enough to ensure they remained in power." Revan nodded to indicate that this was still the case. "It is why Exar and Ulic were nearly successful in the last war." The holocron paused, and momentarily closed her eyes, apparently remembering the two young, fallen Jedi. "Ah…but you know this. Tell me of your own war, my Lords."

Malak spoke up, the condescension clear in his mechanical voice, "We stopped the Mandalorian invaders before they could advance on the Core worlds."

"And you made them weaker still."

Revan peered at the projected woman, "How? Tell me."

"You have reinforced their belief that war starts and stays on the Outer Rim. They have forgotten Exar and his dark Jedi. They know only Revan and her protection. You asked about the Star Forge? They won't let you keep it, my Lord. They will remove you from it at the earliest opportunity, not trusting such power to a Jedi. They will squabble over its control." The holocron smoothed her hair and casually asked, "What is your _goal_ in this?"

"To strengthen and protect the Republic," Malak stated stiffly, "To turn back the darkness that is advancing upon us." The holocron image sniffed, stifling a smirk.

Revan glared at her, mumbling, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, my Lord Revan. It is only…Lord Malak, you do sound so very much like Ulic. He was very…principled, as well." She sniffed again. "A piece of advice, Lords. During the war, did you allow compassion and sentiment to cloud your reasoning? Of course, you did not. Those who are Sith must cast aside these conceits. Those who do not—those who try to walk the path of moderation—will fail, dragged down by their own weakness. This is why those who serve the light are limited in what they accomplish. The Jedi teach you to control, utterly, your every emotion, your every thought. Instead, you must seek power above all else, with no reservation or hesitation. That is how you can protect your dear Republic."

"What you suggest is—"

Revan cut-off Malak's flustered argument, "—take control. Conquer them and re-forge the galaxy—a stronger, united galaxy."

"Yesss…you see. And the only effective manner in which to rule them is with a master and…" she sneered at Malak, "her apprentice." A whisper snaked toward them through the Force: _Empire._

After a few long moments, Serena broke the silence, addressing Malak shakily, "Can you see, uh…can you give me a few moments alone, to think?" She sat down on the cold stone floor and began quietly meditating, absorbing the information and allowing it to assimilate. 

He watched her cautiously for a moment, trying to make out her thoughts. When it was apparent that she would be there for a long while, he returned to the previous chamber. He had always found his solace in history books and files, so he left her, deep in thought, to explore some of the other consoles.

-------------------------------------------------------

_What was that?_ I sat in the shadows for minutes that were as hours. Avoiding starlight filtering in through the window. Listening. Someone whispered, someone cursed. A floorboard creaked. _Who's there?_

Pretending to be invisible—_It always works with Daddy…_The familiar, desperate need to hide forced adrenaline through my veins and I held my breath.

When my bedroom door swung open, I started hiding. _Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me. I'm not here. You can't see me. _

They were trying to be quiet, fumbling around in my tiny, dark room. _You don't see me, I don't exist. I don't exist. LEAVE. _

Only one man remained behind. He sniffed and cocked his head to the side. Grabbing me, he yanked me out of my hiding place. His hands hurt, but when I cried out, he loosened his grip slightly. He was mumbling something, "…don't break the merchandise…"

The other men were in Mommy's kitchen.

"Oh, there you are, Loren. You found 'er, eh? Where was she?!"

"Bitch used the Force to hide." The man called Loren looked down at me with his flat, dead blue eyes and I sucked in a lot of breath at once. "Didn't you, sweetheart?" His hands were still hurting me, and I couldn't speak. My mouth moved but…He threw me to the ground, slapping against Mommy's floor. "With that attitude, you'll make a terrible slave, little girl. Better learn to do as you're told. That means answering questions when asked."

Another man said something I couldn't make out. My ears were ringing. It hurt, everything hurt. Something…"ex-Jedi…good investment"…I didn't understand. I just lay there on the floor, breathing, hearing the words but not comprehending. At last, the word that man, Loren, had said pushed its way through, repeating itself in my head. _Slave._ That was enough.

I crawled to my knees, grabbing at Loren's pants leg. "No! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" I just needed Mommy. She could fix it and make them go away. The men just laughed at me, crooked yellow smiles, mossy teeth.

Loren didn't. He just watched me, and then he spoke, quiet, "Don't worry, darlin'. Mommy's just entertainin' some of our…friends. She'll be back real soon." He was lying; I knew it from the way his glow shivered when he said the words. And he knew I knew it.

"Where's Mommy? Where's Mommy?!" They didn't understand. I looked around for her, listening. Strange noises were coming from above our heads, upstairs. A scream. "Mommy!!" Loren leaned over, smiled at me, and cuffed me like Daddy did before I learned to hide. I tried to tell him that I needed Mommy, but it was just quiet and dark, and I dreamed about Loren's blue glow.

-------------------------------------------------------

Musty urine, ale, sex…and blood. _This isn't my room; I don't have a room._ My eyes clamped shut while I panicked. _Remember. Remember. Remember. A pub. A nasty little pub in Elau._ But this wasn't my room, my bed…

When I was five, the man named Loren sold me to a Senator from Deralia. _He was like Daddy…_and I used my tricks: nausea, paranoia, germs. On my birthday—_I was six_—I walked out of the house, into the street, toward the outskirts of Vista. I told everyone, _You don't see me._ No one would remember the ragged little girl who wandered past. I protected myself like this always; I was safe. I could steal food, sleep, travel whenever I wanted.

But it wasn't me. The world was a waking dream, a haze of glowing colors. For nearly two years, I stumbled through life without interacting, without speaking to anyone. I collapsed where I wanted to sleep, against a wall, in a chair; the tricks protected me.

So awakening in a bar wasn't unusual.

Pale light shone through a dirty window. A huge insect scurried across it and into a crack in the wood. _I'm inna bed._ A second wave of panic set in as I noticed a man sitting in the shadows of the room, staring out of another window.

"Awake, are you?" He turned his head slowly, and when the sunlight fell across his face, I tripped out of the bed, scrambling away, backing up until I bumped the wall. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Like before. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Take it easy." He was sad, and his glow was trembling, but he wasn't lying. "I know, young one; you recognize me."

It was Loren. He looked exactly the same. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled. I heard Mommy screaming again, the bumping upstairs and the foul laughter at the kitchen table. I was five again and…and…I choked on the tears that forced their way out.

Loren frowned. "I came to retrieve you from the Senator and he informed me that you had already run away. I've been tracking you for nine months, from Vista to Elau. Your resourcefulness is amazing!"

I still hovered against the wall farthest from him, clinging to it. _Hunter._ The word leaped to mind.

"I'm sorry I frightened you. I—"

_No! Don't listen! _His glow was a steady blue-white and it wanted to draw me in, pulling me toward him. "You took Mommy away from me." It came out flat, cold, and steely. I couldn't help it. Looking at him called to mind her face, her laugh, her voice when she sang, kree berries, spices from cooking. "You took her away and gave me to that man. You--"

"I _saved_ you, Serena."

"How'da you know my name? No one _ever_ asked. Never."

"I've known it from the minute I saw you in your room that night. I'm a Jedi knight and I was on a...a secret mission. Do you know about the Jedi, Serena?" I nodded; they were magic people who traveled around doing good things.

But, Loren didn't do good things. "Jedi are supposed to be nice. You _aren't_ nice."

"I am, Serena, I promise." His expression was full of sorrow, and his glow didn't shake or waver anymore. It held firm and, again, it was the truth. "My name is Loren."

"I know. You hit me." The sorrow on Loren's face changed to pain, instantly aging him.

"I was pretending, sweetheart. I was pretending to be mean so those men didn't take you away from me. Did I let anything bad happen to you?" I had to admit he was right, so I shook my head 'no' and looked up at his eyes. They weren't dead anymore; they sparkled blue, like what I guessed an ocean should look like. It wasn't until much later that I confirmed it. "You were screaming and those other men, they wanted to hurt you, I could feel it, so I had to make you stop. I'm so sorry. But, if I'd been too nice to you..." Loren went back to staring out the window. "I've been sorry for a long time."

I watched his glow for a while. It burned brighter than anyone else I had ever seen. Of course, I'd never seen a Jedi. "Loren? How'd you find me?"

He let out a deep breath and came to sit beside where I was standing. I no longer felt the urge to run. "I gave up. I searched for you for so long that I gave up hope. I came into the pub for a drink, and there you were, curled up on a bench sleeping. Your shields were protecting you, pushing everyone away." He smiled at me. "Serena, what you do with your mind is called shielding."

"But _you_ saw me."

"Well, I'm a Jedi; that's different. Your shields won't work on me yet, but they'll get better." Loren's face fell suddenly and he looked worried. "They worked on the Senator, right, sweetheart? I mean, he didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"He tried. I made him run away every time he saw me. "

Loren smiled again, warmly. "Good girl!" He stood. "Now, we need to go."

"Where?"

"I'm taking you with me, to my home. You're going to be a Jedi." I saw that, not only was it true, but it was a truth that made him happy. Finally, I smiled back at him. His glow was at its brightest and, when Loren held my hand, I wasn't afraid.

-------------------------------------------------------

Revan drifted back into the present. Awakening from the dream, she opened her eyes to find Malak, 'saber drawn and advancing. In her confusion, she slammed him against the far wall. "Galen, stop! What are you doing?" He advanced again, and she lunged with her own ignited lightsaber, the snap-hiss of it's blade ringing across the room. As the acrid scent of burning flesh filled her nostrils, she backed away. A mass of robes and pain huddled on the floor…Malak lay unmoving and Revan stared; stared until the image was burned into her mind, into her fading vision.

"What have you done?" Still reeling, stumbling, she bumped into the wall of holocrons. The Sith woman glared at Revan, squinting. "What…have…you…done?"

Revan willed her mouth to speak, willed those numb lips to form the words. "I…he…I…wh…" Her eyes moved back to the body across the room. _No, not 'the body'. No, he's Galen. I killed…_ She whispered it, "I killed Galen…"

Her shaking lungs struggled for air, coughing until she was doubled over, leaned halfway against the wall below the holocrons, retching blood and bile. She wanted to die, to join him in oblivion and end the pain exploding through her chest.

"I killed…"

The holocron snorted. "You did, didn't you? See, Lord Revan? There is no room for compassion. If you had hesitated much longer, you would have died and your death is not allowable at this time. The future of the galaxy depends on you, does it not?"

"I killed…"

"You did what needed to be done." The woman's image sighed. "My lord, that is the way of the universe. One man, one death, is insignificant to the rest of life. It goes on. Except for you. You are the answer. You are the end and the beginning of the Republic."

Revan shook her head, trying to clear the fog that had seeped in through the cracks in her mind; cracks that had widened considerably since Dxun.

"I killed…"

The holocrons were wrong. Every death counted, every life given for Commander Revan—Samosh, Tren, the baby…the soldiers at Malachor V, at every one of those battles, who had sworn their allegiance…and Galen—each one had meaning and impact. Each death echoed across the galaxy.

"I killed…"

Her eyes clamped shut, Revan waded toward a thought, through the fog of her mind. A single thought beyond the horizon that beckoned her, promising to _set her free_. 

"I killed…"

The holocron whispered, "What have you done?" and Revan grabbed the thought ahead of her, devoured it.

"GALEN!" Her eyes opened wide and she dropped to her knees. Revan's fists slammed into the stone floor as she fell, rage finding its outlet, crushing stone into fine sand. Her frenzied anguish filled the chamber, roaring against the walls of the tomb, cracking the ancient mortar…

The other Sith Lords reveled in her fall.

"What? Serena, what's wrong?" Malak stumbled in from the adjoining room, holding his head as if in pain. "What have you done?"

"No!" Shallow, rapid breathe scoured her lungs. "NO! No, it's not him…You…It's a trick…You're tricking me. Damned Sith, what did you do to me!? How could I--Galen's dead!" She glanced at the pile of robes that had been her husband, then at the specter of Malak before her. Her voice fell to a whisper, "I want it to be you. I wish…somehow…" Revan's 'saber hissed as it arced through the air.

She whirled and slashed with a ferocity he was barely able to dodge, but Malak refused to use his lightsaber against her. As she lunged for him again, he jumped, followed by the smell of singed cloth as her 'saber grazed his sleeve.

"HOLD STILL, BASTARD!"

"Serena!"

While he dodged her next blow easily enough, it had been a feint. He never expected her to turn toward him, her face filled with despair—

The air whooshed from his lungs before Malak knew what was happening. His choking gasps brought shrill laughter from the holocrons, and Revan, herself, appeared manic.

His feet lifted off the ground, the smallest bones snapping in his neck as Revan used the Force to choke the imposter, pressing all of her pain and rage into his slow, agonizing death. His vision began to dim. His lungs screamed for air--

--and he panicked. She could kill him; she _would_ kill him--_Oh, Force! She'll do it. I'm dying already_—The air around Malak blistered and rippled, sending a shockwave through the Force as he opened himself to the power around him. He closed his eyes, attempted a full breath, and relaxed his body, calling upon every source of power he could reach, calling upon the Force, desperately calling upon Revan.

It happened simultaneously: Revan _awoke_ to Malak calling her, and his Force lightning ripped through her body.

She contorted, writhing on the stone floor, arching her back. A silent scream died on her lips as she grasped at the fragile strands of consciousness holding her to reality. New power surged through his mind, snapping old connections and igniting parts of himself long denied, as he poured his anguish—his anger—into the woman he once loved.

_**Malak.**_ She was in his mind.

Suddenly, he stopped, backing away. The power from his fingertips extinguishing from violet flames to nothingness. The scream he hadn't known was his own fell to a low moan.

-------------------------------------------------------

Revan lay upon the stone floor of Naga Sadow's tomb, scarred by his lightning, but savoring Malak's fall. She used the dark power around them to give her the strength to stand while she continued to dominate his mind, unwilling to allow him another opportunity to attack. "Damn you. Damn you, _Malak_. Dog. Cur." She pressed with the Force, pushing his mind, willing the damage to permanence. _Kneel._ Her voice reverberated within his head.

She limped over to him, robes hanging in tatters. Revan's burnt and blistered skin pulled as she walked, inflicting agony with every movement, and she let it in, absorbed it, too. She caressed his hairless head and he leaned his cheek against her hip, ecstatic from the proximity to so much concentrated energy. Another sultry moan escaped his lips, eyes tightly closed.

Slowly, a smile reached Revan's lips, though she winced in pain. "You've shown me, and I believe. You've proven the true power of the dark side, Galen; the power I denied for so long. I never realized…We could've ended it sooner, if I'd only understood." 

She took a deep, rattling breath before_…Look at me, Malak._ He slowly raised his pale face, his soft eyes meeting hers, identical shades of amber gold. "I am finished playing games. The holocron witch is right. I **am** Lord Revan."

A surge rolled through the Force, heralding the arrival of the Dark Lord, _Darth Revan_, supreme ruler of the Sith.

Revan felt the pull of a thousand voices across the galaxy respond with affirmation to the call of the dark side. _They were scattered, but now they will find me, and I will have the beginnings of a fully Force-empowered army. And enough power to truly save the Republic._

Her mind reached out for Zana, searched momentarily for that familiar, warm glow within the Force, but she was gone. Revan was relieved, to her chagrin, that Zana was hidden from her. She was safe, somewhere, far away from the monstrosity they had become. _Just as Zana foresaw, we're the necessary sacrifice. But, it's worth it. I can't doubt that now that we're so close._

Malak was panting, drunk on the power in the room, eyes on his Lord, as the Force commanded. Revan sneered at him and purred, "You shall remain at my side, _apprentice_." He grinned at her and stood unsteadily, slightly cocking his head at a hum filling the room.

Revan arched a brow. The holocrons were repeating something, chanting. _Something familiar, in a way…_It wasn't long before she picked up on it, smirking at the jest in the words: "Peace is a lie, there is only **passion**. Through passion, I gain **strength**. Through strength, I gain **power**. Through power, I gain **victory**. Through victory, my chains are broken...The Force shall set me free." They chanted together, envisioning a Republic in which their sacrifice was enough--where _everyone_ was free.

-------------------------------------------------------

The Echani opposite Jaq paused, looking confused. To Jaq's surprise, the man had stopped mid-swing, and was simply walking away, shaking his head. Around the room, similar scenes played-out, as Revan's soldiers watched, perplexed.

He was about to comment on the "Echani freaks," when a strange sort of_…What is that? A…a hum, in my head…something, in my head…_The noise grew louder. _Voices!_ Louder still, until Jaq's head felt like it would split and he could hear their words. He began fumbling along with them…"Peace…peace is a lie…" Falling to his hands and knees, head hanging low…"_Peace_ is a _lie_!" He squeezed his eyes closed and a masked apparition appeared. 

"Comman--Lor--" He stuttered, and she smiled at him. "_Lord_ Revan."

The smile widened, and then her voice flowed, as liquid, into his mind, _Good boy, Jaq. _He felt himself fill with passion, rage…and hope. Lord Revan wouldn't fail them. Lord Revan was the _savior of the Republic_. Of Jaq.

His eyes popped open. Glancing around, embarrassed, Jaq saw that he wasn't alone; a few of the soldiers nearby seemed to be recovering, as well. Each eyed the others warily, afraid to admit what had just happened, yet desperate to talk about it. 

Eventually, those who were unaffected picked up their weapons and resumed sparring without their trainers. However, Jaq couldn't concentrate and headed to the cantina with a few other men and women. _Maybe a relaxing game of pazaak will help._ He'd played a good bit as a kid, and had brought a new deck along on a whim. It seemed like the perfect time to break it in. Besides, maybe it would help relieve the chill now comfortably resting at the base of his skull, the intruding discomfort wrapped around his spine.


	18. Part 17A

She trudged, slowly, stoically, up another hill. Her knees were bleeding profusely, embedded with the gravelly grit of Malachor V. A gash across her forehead oozed blood, leaking the poisonous taint of the storm beasts into her eyes. _...survivors...both...neither..._ She was blind now, the poison dilating and atrophying her sight. _...Brianna...Brianna...will of the Force...fools...wounded..._ and her thoughts were reeling with the fluctuating energies of the planet, itself _...betrayal...more survivors...so much...love...and hate...will of the Force..._ The Force around her spoke and Arren Kae used its words to guide her, stumbling and streaked, to the steps of Trayus Academy. _It welcomes my return with open arms..._

"Commander Jen, here. Go ahead."

"Commander."

"L-Lord Revan. How may I help you?"

"I'm transmitting coordinates to you now. How soon can you move to this location?" 

The commander examined his screen for a moment before replying, "Five days, my Lord."

"Very well. I'll be expecting you." Revan closed the comm channel and walked to a nearby viewport. She found herself watching open space more often, lately, as if waiting for something. _But what?_ Zana came to mind, as did the darkness expected to engulf the galaxy. Neither had made an appearance.

Revan couldn't afford to hope that, one day, she would see the _Starling_ nearing the Forge. Even if their bond had not been forcibly severed, Revan's fall to the dark side would have likely prevented such a thing from continuing.

Instead of thinking on the past, Revan pictured her fleet as it would look upon completion of her plans: a massive cloud of black fighters, frigates, and freighters. Production was well underway, and it would be glorious. 

Malak sat, immobile, meditating. _Attempting to meditate._ Thoughts of Revan, her body ravaged by Force lightning, kept invading his solitude. The smell! He could swear he still smelled it on her, though he knew it wasn't possible. He wondered if her body was still scarred or if she had found enough light in her heart to heal it..._It is not as if I would know. I doubt she will ever touch me again. I doubt we shall ever share another bed..._ He frowned. That wasn't what he really missed. He missed her confidence, her steadfast presence. Lately, even standing beside her, Malak felt alone.

He would have gone on letting his mind wander if a faint red glow hadn't caught his attention.

_The holocron._ A momentary pang of guilt came and went. The holocron witch was responsible for their fall..._No. She prodded and pushed, but this...this was long in coming. Was it Malachor V? The damned temple on Dantooine? The simple act of loving another human being?_ Their masters might be right in keeping the Jedi away from love—but Malak couldn't agree entirely. He might not have Revan, but he did have..._power beyond the masters' wildest imaginings._

The holocron was fully lit, casting a bloody glow around the room, shining off the black stone walls of the Star Forge. The small red figure of the witch stood next to it, watching him.

"Hello, tall one..." Her tone shifted from derisive banter to serious concern. "Lord Malak, you seem troubled...Perhaps unhappy with the current circumstance?" He glanced at her, showing no emotion. "Lord, that I were again flesh and blood, I could please you in ways Lord Revan never dared dream. As Lord Formus' concubine, I—" 

"—concubine? You aren't a Sith Lord?"

"Oh, do not be confused, Lord Malak. I _was_, indeed. An alchemist of unmatched skill..." She gave a small bow. "It is what many said."

Malak felt her leading him, but he allowed it. His curiosity, as a historian, was overwhelming. "Tell me of your past, milady. I am intrigued."

"Certainly, my Lord." She bowed again and stood up a bit taller. As she spoke, he examined her fine clothing, jeweled tiara, and arranged hairstyle. She was certainly more than a common concubine. "My name is Chara Parisi. I was thirty-two years old when I became one with the Force, 421 years ago..."

_Chara watched as a tall man with dark skin strode up the paved walk. He sneered at every duck and domesticated mott that crossed his path, kicking at them cruelly. His robes swayed as he walked, and Chara listened to the sound they made, held by its beauty._

It was her way. She was taken in by the smallest of things: rustling drapes, unique cloud formations, the feel of sand upon her feet and between her toes. Many had called her stupid, slow. Many had ignored her completely. But this man...she knew, somehow, that he was there for her. The idea filled her mind, and for the first time Chara felt something akin to hope. It was the last time.

"Chara! Get in here, girl!" She responded quickly, eyes on the dirt floor as she entered their squalid hut. "Come here, please." Her mother held out her arms and Chara climbed into her lap, relishing the velvety feel of her mother's skirt.

"We...we haven't enough food for everyone, dewberry. We cannot afford to care for you properly. Being the youngest of seven children, living here? That's no life for you, Chara. You're special and..." Her mother beamed with pride as she nodded toward the dark man. "This man..." 

Hello, young one. _Chara's eyes grew wide and she squinted at the man; the urge to run was tempered by her need to hear his words._ I am Lord Formus Nekal.

_"H-Hello...Lord. I four."_

"He wants to take you with him. Lord Formus would like for you to be his apprentice."

"What's 'prentice?" Her mother smiled gently.

"A student, dewberry. You are so special that he searched for you all over Ord Mantell. He wants to teach you."

"School?" 

Yes, in a manner of speaking.

_"What you doing? Head?"_

I am speaking to you, through the Force. I can teach you to do it, if you like. I can teach you many things.

_"'Kay." It was that simple. She said goodbye to her parents, people she barely knew, though they'd always loved her dearly. Following Lord Formus, Chara was forced to take three steps for his every stride. _

As soon as her parent's farm was out of sight, something started to feel...wrong. The man's calm demeanor evaporated, a cruel smile spreading across his face. Her connection to the trees, the clouds, the very texture of the ground—it disappeared. She gasped and Lord Formus continued to grin down at her. "Lord?" 

You are mine! Do you understand? You...are...mine. _When they boarded his ship and departed for Korriban, Chara was placed in chains, stripped of the ever present "feeling"—what Lord Formus called_ the Force_—and left utterly alone._

_For the next twenty years, Chara was his concubine, occasional test subject for his alchemic experiments, and rare apprentice. But she still learned. She learned from the books she was allowed to read and often from the books that were forbidden. She watched him as he worked and practiced on her own. The only element she lacked, the Force, was being suppressed by a simple mind spell. She found it, eventually—an incantation buried among the forbidden knowledge of his library, printed in a neat scrawling hand alongside its negation darta._

He had grown comfortable, lax with age, and drunk with power. One evening he drew close to her, intent on finding solace in her body, as was his custom. She let him, ignoring it as she always did. But, instead of allowing her mind to wander, Chara listened. When he seemed near to climax, she unleashed her rage and screamed the darta. It broke his influence as all of her years of conserved anger broke his mind and Chara drank the man's basic essence in the Force. He remained, a shell lying prone in front of her, the object of her anger. She chained him into her old chains; he became her personal experiment. 

The holocron smiled sweetly as she remembered his screams. "I assure you, milord; he died a gruesome, slow, and agonizing death. I always imagined my own apprentice would one day be _my_ death, as I had killed my master. However, it was not so. In the hours before this holocron's recording, I drank one of my experiments...a putrid, fizzing thing formulated to grant me some measure of protection. Alas, as I swallowed that swill, I knew immediately that I had made a mistake, forgotten an ingredient, or missed an inflection of voice. There was nothing to be done; I foresaw my death in those moments. So, I hastily called to my apprentice and we recorded this holocron to preserve my knowledge; knowledge desperately gained through years of agony." She crossed her arms and stared up at Malak. "It has passed through many hands. And now, it is yours, Lord Malak."

He had questions, _So many questions_. but it was at this moment that the nearby comm unit buzzed. It was Commander Jen on Sehorn.

"Speak."

"Lord Malak, Lord Revan is not answering her channel, and I have urgent news. The fleet shall arrive at your location in five days, as I told Lord Revan, but..." The man grabbed at his neck, fingers clawing at the invisible hand that choked the life from his body. Malak knew what lay beyond the word 'but;' he'd stripped it from the man's mind without a second thought. _The Echani..._

Malak's own thoughts intruded: _What a beautiful sound! Her laughter!_ And as the commander's lifeless form fell from the view of the comm unit, Chara Parisi's holocron continued to laugh. 

"They are not coming."

She looked up as he spoke. "What?"

"They are not coming...master," he repeated, the title leaving a sour taste in his mouth. _The rise of bile each time I say that word is barely tolerable. This cannot last._

The echoing and familiar voice of the dark side hissed in his mind, _Not long, 'master', not long. Be patient._ Its enmity was not lost on Malak.

"Who, Malak?"

"The Echani. General Yusanis disagrees with your plan; he has recalled his people. He claims it is, in his words, 'a vile betrayal of the war's fallen dead.'" Malak's mechanical voice echoed off the blank stone walls of the Star Forge. He shrugged and shook his head. "I find it hard to understand. The Republic is a fatted iriaz sow, ready to be butchered." His eyes blazed momentarily, though Revan had already looked back at her desk. Hastily, he added, "This is how any enemy will view it; but, we can rebuild it into something stronger: a rancor. It seems obvious."

Again, Revan glanced up from her map. "They're fools. As were the Rakata. They thought this was just a ship, a theoretical factory. They weren't particularly sure _what_ it did—that's why they laughed when I asked about it." She could still feel the Rakata language slithering around inside her head. "They handed us the greatest weapon in the history of the 'verse. When the black cloud arrives, whatever it may be..." Revan's voice trailed off as she stood and walked to one of the transparisteel windows. "Without us, the Republic will not only fall, but never recover. _Freedom, Justice._ They would become useless words, without reference or meaning..." Returning to her work, she added, "...like _Love_." 

Revan conjured the scent of Force lightning into Malak's brain, smirking.

His voice, when it finally came, was a steely whisper, "That is not fair, Revan..._Lord Revan_." 

"NO! It _isn't_ fair. Nothing is. Get over it, and get out!" Her rage was visible, manifested in the Force as it surrounded her, radiant, burning; and he turned and simply walked out of the room. He knew it would infuriate her further.

As he made his way through the twisting lower halls of the Star Forge, Darth Malak could hear the dark echoing voice again, and he had no doubt that Revan heard it, too. It whispered of power and of victory and his pulse quickened at their words.

As Malak left, she could only feel relief. Since the tomb and their fall, Revan hadn't been able to speak to him as anyone but _Dark Lord_, Darth Revan. Her voice was sharp and there was a surge of anger every time she tried to say, "I'm sorry." Not that she was; it just seemed...right...a semblance of her old self. Surprisingly, she didn't care. She didn't _need_ Malak.

Revan flopped back into her chair and closed her eyes. _It's okay. It's been four months. They should be good enough to teach new recruits on their own._ She mentally shoved the Echani-issue into a dark corner of her mind. It seemed the "dark corners" were multiplying as she thought of new things to shove into them.

_And what of the enemy? The enemy is...the Republic. The fastest way to conquer the Republic will be to remove the fleet._ Revan tapped a gloved finger on her desk. _Which should pose few problems. They keep their ships on Foerest in times of peace, barely guarded._ When _she_ ruled the Republic, she wouldn't make the same mistakes. She stretched to relieve some of her tension, smirking at their naiveté. _What should they expect? Certainly not 'Commander Revan, Savior of the Galaxy' arriving to steal them out from under their noses. _

Revan laughed, but found the sound grating. 

When Malak returned to his dark chamber, he found it still lit by the pure red light of Chara's holocron. "You return, milord."

"Yes, I needed. I was just delayed. Chara—may I call you that?"

"My Lord Malak, I am yours to command. You may call me whatever you wish." Again, Malak felt something odd in her words, pulling him in a certain direction, but he sensed nothing malicious. Her words had a way of finding and filling the cracks in a mind; it was soothing. 

"Chara, then. And you," His eyes bored into her electronic image. "You will call me 'master.'"

The faintest hint of displeasure crossed her delicate features—Malak noted it with satisfaction—followed by a sultry, "Yes, master." It was everything he imagined. The power of the words issuing from another's mouth was intoxicating.

"What would you do, Chara, if you wished to crush the will of the Republic?"

She appeared thoughtful for a moment, perhaps searching the holocron, before answering, "Master, to tame the Republic, you must first tame its strength. Not the fleet, which they gladly sacrifice whenever the opportunity arises. The Jedi, master. Acquire the Jedi, make them Sith, and you remove the heart of the Republic. The self-serving Senate will agree to anything for self-preservation." 

"The Jedi...we already have many Jedi...dark Jedi who fell by Revan's powerful influence."

"Dark Jedi, master? Yes. By Lord Revan's influence? Hardly. Tell me, Lord, master, tell me about the joiner."

"Joiner?"

"The girl, master."

"Joiner...join-...Zana?! Are you saying it was she who..." After a moment's thought, he asked, "What does _she_ have to do with this?"

Chara dismissed his query, moving forward, "Lord Revan, being unable to turn them herself, will need an ancient type of Sith. A Sith without use of the Force. Non-sensitives who served the Sith empire for millennia as hunters. _Jedi hunters_." 

He whispered the words in awe, a question, begging explanation, "Jedi hunters?"

"Yes. They were amazing to see in action. I am rather surprised you had not heard of them, though I don't recall if Exar used them in his own war...it seems so very long ago. They say a holocron does not feel time passing, but that is a myth. We see it, feel it, all too well." She sighed. 

"What did they do? You must tell me...how?" He was mesmerized—as she had intended.

"Master, Jedi hunters were people of uncanny skill. They specialized in turning Jedi from the Light, bringing them to the darkness, bending them to the will of the hunter's dark Lord. If the Jedi could not be forced to fall, as some _are_ so entrenched in the damnable Light of their order, they were killed. It may seem like a small thing, but they succeeded where a Force-sensitive would have failed. Through blocking techniques, these mundane humans captured, turned, and killed Jedi."

Malak would have grinned if he could. _Of course! If we could turn the Jedi, bring them to our cause..._ "...we would be unstoppable! You must tell me, how are these hunters trained?"

"Carefully, Lord Malak. There are steps to be followed, or the process will be...tainted. And it is important to understand how dangerous that—"

"Tell me."

"The knowledge is within this holocron. Listen closely, Master. Tampering with the natural order of things is—"

"Tell...me..." He felt his anger break against his mind, but he pushed it back. This could be the advantage he had been hoping to find.

Chara recited, in a sing-song voice,

"You must break his anger with repetitive pain and stalwart indifference—  
Break his defiance by removing his dignity,—  
Break his weakness and pleading with taunts and empty promises to stop the pain—  
Break his despondence with hope and purpose."

She smiled pleasantly at Malak, but her eyes didn't reflect it. They were cold and distant. "Malak, I must caution you. There are risks. If you are not—"

"I understand, of course. These Jedi hunters have merit; I think I will speak with Revan of this. I could try a few of my own experiments..."

She tried, again, to warn him, but Malak continued to ignore her. Eventually, she left him to ruminate, retreating back into the holocron and darkening its sanguine glow.

Two weeks later.

When Lord Revan's army and small fleet arrived at the Star Forge many days ago, she had felt them pulsing within the dark side of the Force. Throughout her welcome speech, with Malak by her side. While they ate in the mess. While they slept. She had been amazed at the seamless transformation from _Commander_ Revan to _Lord_ Revan. They were loyal and obedient servants of their Dark Lord. She smiled through her trance.

The tone of a bell sounded throughout the apartment, breaking Revan's concentration and marking the end of meditation. She paced, fidgeted with various papers and gadgets on her desk, and finally gave in. Donning mask and cowl, she ventured out into the Star Forge.

It was a wholly uncomfortable experience. While on _Victorious_, she could expect an occasional snappy salute, admiring looks. With the transformation from Commander to Lord, everything had changed. Some of the soldiers she passed in the hallways saluted, many offered clumsy bows, and others just turned and walked in the other direction. They weren't obvious, but Revan was beyond being fooled by mere subtleties.

As she turned a corner, a vaguely familiar voice carried over the rumble of the Star Forge and the noises of training. "Jaq? Jaq Rand!" The small knot of soldiers ahead of her paused, frozen mid-step, and Jaq turned to face her. 

"My Lord Revan." He saluted smartly and grinned.

"Jaq, _my hero_! Welcome to my Star Forge."

"It's impressive, my Lord." He fidgeted with his collar and ran a hand through his hair.

"And your training? How is it progressing?"

Another of the group stepped forward. "Lord Revan, Rand is the best. Got them Echani moves down, no contest." Jaq elbowed the man in the ribs, feigning embarrassment even as he broke into a wide grin.

"Now, now, Jaq. Don't be modest. You should take pride in your talents." 

"Yes, my Lord." Someone made a lewd comment regarding just what talents he possessed and Revan couldn't help but laugh with the men. Jaq feigned embarrassment, again. In fact, this time, Revan wasn't sure it was counterfeit. _He's so hard to pin down_. 

The group fell into an uncomfortable silence and Revan excused herself, feeling somewhat out of place. The men snapped salutes as she stalked away. _How is it that I've grown so far from them?_ She continued her walk, past the mess, the dormitories, the crowded assembly hall they'd converted into a cantina, and many rows of training rooms.

Nearing what was, easily, the twentieth training room in the corridor, Revan paused. She watched the soldiers inside—_Were we really that young when we left the enclave? It's hard to believe those 'kids' are veterans._—and noted how they had improved since she saw them last on Sehorn. 

Revan's meeting with Jaq had illustrated just how frayed her connection to the soldiers had become. Was it merely neglect on her part? She couldn't deny that she had been too distant, recently. It was time to change that.

Strolling into the practice room, she approached a young woman, ignited her lightsaber, and bade the girl attack. She did so without question, and Revan was pleased to see that the girl wasn't afraid to spar with the Dark Lord. In fact, she was good. _Too good._ The Echani moves paired easily with skillful swordsmanship. In a real battle, Revan wasn't sure who would have been the victor.

"Thank you...that was...stimulating..." was all Revan could manage as she huffed and shook with the thrill of battle. "It has been...too long..."

"Lord...Revan..." Revan was pleased to note that the girl was as drained as she.

"You did very...well..." She felt smothered in the mask and cowl and quickly slipped them over her head, placing a Force-powered illusion in their place. The fresh air was wonderfully crisp and clean and Revan felt somehow liberated as she glanced around the room. The soldiers watched her, some openly staring at her face. It was a rare sight. 

Giving them all a winning smile, she asked, "Anyone care to train with me? I could use the practice."

For the next few weeks, Revan relegated the production of the Sith fleet to Malak and began attending her soldiers' training sessions in the various rooms of the Star Forge. She sparred with them, wrestled, and practiced katas. They taught her the Echani art of combat; she taught them to focus their minds and block their thoughts, allowing them to remain calm.

Jaq's meeting with Lord Revan had shaken him enough that, instead of going to training, he begged off. Lounging around his dormitory, he allowed his mind to wander and, eventually, found himself reminiscing about his childhood.

_"Jaq! Get that table for me, wouldya?"_

"Yessum." Six-year-old Jaq Rand nodded to his mother, and then scurried between customers and waiters to reach a table shoved into a back corner. The man sitting there had skin the color of wroshyr syrup and his black hair—what was left of it—was speckled with gray. He looked up as the young man approached, smiling warmly to him.

"Hello, there, youngster."

"Hello, sir. What can I getcha?" 

The man's smile suddenly faded and Jaq found himself being drawn in by his dark eyes. "Well, you're a special one, aren't ya? Come here, boy."

_**Come here, boy**__—those were the words Papa always used when Momma was out..._

"Somethin' wrong, mister?"

"No, son, no. Nothing's wrong. It's just, well, anything 'funny' ever happen t'you? Like knowin' what someone else is going to say before they say it?"

Jaq nodded vigorously. "With Celeste. That happens all the time. And this one-time, we talked to each other in our heads! But, I didn't tell Papa. He wouldn't like that."

"Reeaally? What's your name?"

"Jaq."

"Well, Jaq, my name's Jolee. See, we both start with J's; we've already got something in common. Now, you come and sit across from me, okay?" Jaq complied. "Listen up. Something else we have in common is the thing that makes you able to do things like that sometimes. Watch this." Jolee levitated a fork from the table, and then gently lowered it back down.

"Woooowwww!" The little boy's eyes lit up, and his mouth hung open in awe. "That's...that's prime! Astral!"

"Liked that, huh? Are you happy here, boy? You like your family, your parents?"

Who could imagine not loving their parents? Regardless of his treatment, doing otherwise had never crossed his mind. He nodded again.

"Then I want you to do this. Close your eyes. I want you to think of the nastiest, awfulest thing you can think of. Really think. Now I want you to try to make _**me**__ think of it, too. Ready, go!"_

Jaq thought of slugs, of bantha poodoo, of the bearded lady that worked in a different cantina down the street. He thought of the Hutt, of the stench of his father's breath when he—

He heard Jolee suddenly jump back against his seat.

"Okay! Stop!" The man's eyes were wide and his features seemed to sag a bit. "I don't know what you were thinking, but those emotions! That was good. See, there are these people...have you ever heard of Jedi?" The boy shook his head. A dark shadow passed over Jolee's face. Bitterly, he warned, "Well, they'll come some day. They'll come, and when they do, they're gonna want to take you with them. They'll take away your parents. They'll even take your friend—Celeste, was it?—away from you. Consider that for a moment. When they come, I want you to think hard on..._**whatever**__ it was you thought of last. Understand. They want to take you away, boy. But, if you do this, you can stay with your parents."_

He didn't know whether to smile at the older man or cry. People were coming to take him away? Why? And he wouldn't see Celeste anymore? They were definitely bad people, then.

Jolee stuck out a hand and Jaq shook it. "Well, then, boy. You know, I don't think I need anything, anymore. I feel pretty good about my trip, so I think I'll be on my way. Ship won't fly itself, ya know. And I wouldn't want to drink anything that would alter my fine piloting skills. Might end up crash-landed somewhere, alone." He rolled his eyes, stood, and trotted toward the door. As Jaq watched him go, he heard the man mumble, "One more family they won't be ripping apart. Damned navel gazers," and he wondered what 'navel gazer' meant and if that man's family had been taken away, too. 

Jaq awoke and glanced at the chronometer as a knock issued from his door. "Jaq, man, c'mon!" It was dinner time. He roused himself enough to open the door and follow his friends down the corridor to the mess hall. The memory was hazy, from a time he'd nearly forgotten, and the details faded before he had time to grasp them. _That man was right about one thing. They sure as hell took Celeste away. And it didn't matter what I did to stop them. Fracking Jedi._ As usual, his mind tacked on a customary "Except for Revan, of course" at the end of his thoughts. 

Three weeks later, Star Forge

Revan removed the stifling mask, placing it flat on the desk in front of her. The metal rang against its black, stone surface. _Nearly time to_— 

She felt his presence drawing near and stilled her thoughts, watching the door expectantly. As it opened automatically, she looked down at her accumulated hyperspace charts and notes. "What do _you_ want?" She spat the words at him, annoyed at both the intrusion and his very presence. While the Star Forge represented her achievements, he was very much evidence of her failures.

"Over the last month, I have been doing some research of my own. I have learned something. Something we can exploit." When she didn't respond, he continued, "Chara speaks of—"

"Chara?"

"The holocron."

"Come now, _husband_; on first name basis with a holocron? I hope she's just your type." She sneered at him, but remembered he'd come to tell her something. "Fine, what is it?" 

Malak watched Revan. The dim light hid her features, softened the taint upon her, and for an instant she was just as he remembered her from Telos. Then, she looked up at him, a scarred vestige of her former self. He missed their tender moments. The happiness they'd shared for that fleeting span of time between the enclave and _Victorious_. He wanted it back. All of it.

The only way to recover what was lost was to defeat the Republic and save it. _Only when the task is complete will she make time for love, again._ He had to wonder if _he_ still loved _her_ Contemplating the idea, he was forced to admit that he did not love her now; but, later, he was certain...

"Fine, what is it?" 

"Jedi hunters, _master._" He recounted Chara's explanation, Revan nodding and taking notes as he spoke. "Revan, I would..." He felt his excitement rise as he uttered the words he'd obsessed over for the last three weeks. "I request that you let _me_ do it. Let me break them for you." His breathing was shallow and there was a wild glint in his eye. Enthusiasm, hunger, bled off of him.

She considered denying the request, to spite him. But, she had to admit, it was a sound idea. Besides, Revan didn't relish the thought of doing such low labor herself. "Very well. Do you know _where_ you can do it? I don't think it's feasible to keep them on the Star Forge; no need in scaring the others." She wrinkled her nose at him. "And I get the feeling that there may be some…_unpleasantness_ involved."

He made a sound that might have been a chuckle. "Indeed. I thought, perhaps, the silent grove on Sehorn?"

Revan smirked, amazed at the intricate workings of the Force, the coincidences that were not just coincidences. Their victory was nearly assured. "Then go. Immediately. Contact me when you are ready for your first _volunteer_." Her smirk quickly changed to a glare. "Now, get out of my sight." 

Two weeks later, Malak requested his first volunteer.

_tap-tap-tap_

"Come!" 

The door open quietly and Jaq Rand slid into the room. "You summoned me, Lord Revan?"

"Yes. We need to talk, hero." Her voice was teasing, though the features beneath the mask remained blank. Revan stood and sauntered over to Jaq, trailing a finger down one side of his face, and then circled him, appraising. " You followed me from Malachor V, without question, and you disposed of my assassin. You're very loyal, aren't you, Jaq?" He nodded vigorously. "I'd like to recruit you for a _special project_...It'd require moving you to our training facility, but I think you would find the work..._stimulating._" Her voice was sultry and deep, and with each word, Jaq swayed. _Another fracking sacrifice_, she couldn't help thinking. "You want a promotion, don't you, Jaq?"

It wasn't really a question; Lord Revan had just informed him that he _had_ been promoted...to what? _A special position?_


	19. Part 17B

**Foerost, Deep Core**

Revan stood on the bridge of _Victorious_ watching her small fleet emerge from hyperspace. They advanced, as a group, toward the planet of Foerost, following in Exar Kun's well-worn footsteps. _We're not like him._

The shipyards orbiting below contained nearly three-quarters of the Republic fleet, dry docked in this supposed time of peace. The moment…the moment was so full of potential, and Revan, full of hope. _It feels so right._

She snorted at the thought of any Jedi doing something because it "felt" right.

This was her opening move in a—_Force willing_—short game of dejarik. Removing their fire power would, hopefully, remove their will to fight. She needed to conquer the Republic, but preferred not to destroy it in the process.

**Sehorn, Unknown Regions**

Malak led Jaq toward a small copse of trees, secluded from the rest of the camp. Jaq could feel _something_ change as they entered the shade of the wood, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Just up ahead, he could barely make out the outline of a tent. _Finally! This black stuff is fragging up my boots_.

**Foerost**

"Alright, Commander, start your descent. If you're hailed, refer it to me. They aren't expecting us."

"As you wish, Lord Revan."

Revan watched as the Sith fleet began to fall away. She watched as war began.

**Sehorn**

Before he knew what was happening, Jaq was lying on a table. His feet and hands rested in hard leather manacles that bit his flesh if he struggled. Malak stood over him, filling his view.

"Jaq, is it? Revan recommended you, specifically. She said you are a loyal soldier. Is this true?"

"Yes, Lord Malak,"

"And you would do whatever she asked?"

"Of course." Lightning crackled through the air, licking at Jaq's flesh, and he gasped for breath as the pain slowly subsided.  
"Of course, what?" 

'Of…of course, _Lord Malak_." Jaq could feel his own hatred and anger flaring as Malak's gaze locked-on to his.

"Oh, yes, Jaq. By the end of this, you _will_ hate me…and you will love me for it."

**Foerost**

Each frigate ejected a dozen troop carriers toward the orbiting station. They pulled alongside the docking platforms and Revan's pilots disembarked.

**Sehorn**

_Break his anger with pain and indifference._

"You. Fracking. Bishwag!" Jaq grunted between gritted teeth.

"Jaq. There is no need to be angry with me. _Revan_ chose you, not I." He continued trickling the lightning into Jaq, careful not to overload his neurons or send him into shock. "You are not enjoying yourself?"

He spat at Malak, but said nothing more.

**Foerost**

A few Republic soldiers, the token watch, fired at the troop carriers. Revan closed her eyes, found them through the Force, and the firing ended abruptly.

**Sehorn**

_Break his defiance by removing his dignity._

Violated. It was the only word that would come to Jaq's mind, as the tears came to his eyes. Violated. Like his father…Violated. violated. father violated violated violatedfatherviolatedviolatedvioatdvata vd…

**Foerost**

As the newly acquired ships lifted off of the shipyard to join Revan's fleet, she sighed. _It's done._

**Sehorn**

_Break his weakness and pleading with taunts and empty promises to stop the pain._

"Please! Lord Malak! Anything! Lord Mal…Aaaargh! LORD MALAK!"

He allowed Jaq to continue screaming for a few minutes longer before the lightning stopped. "What was that, Jaq?"

"St…sto…sto…p…"

"I am sorry, but, I cannot understand. Speak up?" Malak was finding the whole process exhilarating—particularly the lightning, which danced and crackled as it left his hands. Malak even relished the pain _he_ felt each time he used it. "Nothing more to say?" The lightning sprang forth, filling the tent with an incandescent purple glow that spilled out into the silent wood.

**Traveling through Republic space. **

As Revan's enlarged fleet made its way back to unknown space, she received a hail. The woman on-screen was unfamiliar. "This is Admiral Forn Dodonna. To whom am I speaking?"

**Sehorn**

_Break his despondence with hope and purpose._

"Jaq." _Jaq._

"It is time, Jaq." _Jaq, awaken._

He felt the young man rise, slowly, back into consciousness.

"Jaq. You have done so well. I am very proud of our progress."

No response.

"Jaq. Jaq, listen to me. You are destined for something great. But there is something you must do first. You must be…reprogrammed."

Malak felt Jaq's conscious recede as the man passed back into a heavy daze. "Jaq, this will not do." He closed his eyes and reached into Jaq's mind.

**Traveling through Republic space. **

"Admiral. This is Commander Serena Revan."

"Co…Commander Revan?" The young woman stared at the screen for a moment before straightening her stance and attempting to speak again. "You are—You are in violation of Republic air space and you have stolen a large number of ships. I am authorized to use force in order to return those ships to Foerost."

"Admiral Dodonna, I'm also authorized to use…_Force._" She chuckled coldly at the feeble joke.

"Revan, return the ships—"

"Or what, exactly? I now possess the majority of your pathetic fleet. They were _waiting_ to be taken." She paused, watching the admiral fumble for words before adding, "Admiral, I suggest you find a different line of work."

Revan cut the transmission and her fleet continued toward the Star Forge. She could imagine the prim admiral cursing the name of Revan somewhere on Coruscant at that very second, and smiled despite herself.

_We do this for you, Admiral—for you and all of the helpless citizens of the Republic. We do it for the Republic, itself; else, we lose it completely._  
She stared out into the emptiness of space surrounding her. Beyond that serene blackness, something waited to strike. With heightened conviction, Revan added, "Yes. For the Republic."

**Coruscant, Fleet Command**

_Admiral Karath, it is time._

It was printed on a tiny beige slip of paper, sent by non-digital methods, and bore the official seal of the Jedi Order. He chuckled at that touch. The message was short, but he recognized who it was from and what it meant. Hesitating a moment, considering, Karath pressed his comm unit. "Notify the crew; _Leviathan_ disembarks in one week. And get a line out to Carth Onasi on Telos. Ask him to report immediately. We need to talk."

He knew his loyalties should lie with the Republic, but, _It was Revan, not the Senators, who saved our skins during the war. Besides, her plan is a sound one._ As he saw it, she'd earned his allegiance. 

_Something's not right. Something..._

Loren Kavar sat up and rolled out of bed. _He's leaving, after all._ Slipping into his outer robes and padding out into the corridor, he heard a door at the end of the hall slide closed. Following, he trailed the man through the lightening dawn, from the enclave to the private landing pad nearby. He observed him for a while before stepping out of the darkened shadows.

"Zez, wait..." Zez-Kai Ell turned, eyed Kavar, and then went back to packing the ship.

"I wondered if you would speak. You know I must go. It is wrong, this thing the Council has done, and I can no longer be a part of it. In fact, it started long before, with Exar and Ulic, Malak and Revan. The teachings are flawed." His melancholy gaze met Kavar's. "I am sure you feel the same, but I am just as sure that you stay for...a reason." Master Ell offered the other master his hand and they clasped arms for a moment.

Master Kavar nodded. "You'll be careful won't you, old friend? The dark side takes many forms and—"

"Of course. I cannot abide the Order any longer, but I am no less bound by my duty to the Light." He broke into a sad grin before turning away. "Perhaps I can do some good where I go."

"I'm sure you can." Kavar watched as Zez-Kai loaded his single-seat speeder into the ship. _We were friends, weren't we?_ His mind briefly flitted to childhood afternoons spent racing the speeder around the plains.

As Master Zez-Kai Ell turned for a final goodbye, Kavar reached out and pulled the man into a hug. Clapping him on the back, he muttered, "Goodbye, Zez. May the Force be with you."

After a moment of shock, Master Ell returned the hug in a final affirmation of friendship; a remnant of their camaraderie as younglings and their shared understanding as masters. Climbing into the small ship, he leaned out of the loading bay as the door closed. "Don't let her get away that easily, my friend! May the Force be with _you_, Loren."

The ship's ion trail had faded and his friend was long gone. However, Loren Kavar—_the man_, not the Jedi—sat on the grass where he'd dropped to his knees. Zez-Kai's final words had touched a nerve, and a part of him was ready to follow that advice immediately. Instead, he stood and staggered back inside the enclave.

_Zana's fine; she can take care of herself. She doesn't need me._ But, for now, the Order did. They were short on masters as it was, and he couldn't stand the looks on those kids' faces when they were told there was no one to train them.

A young teenager came bounding out of the enclave to meet him. "Bastila, what's wrong?" She looked flustered and upset. The Force twitched and jumped around her.

"It's...Knight Revan! Master Kavar, Revan has returned to the Republic and she's...she's attacked Foerost! She's stolen the fleet!"

The words _She's stolen the fleet!_ echoed through his mind. If it was true—Kavar needed to speak with Vrook and Vandar. He needed to warn Zana, somehow. _The repercussions could be devastating, for all Jedi._

He allowed himself to be dragged into the enclave by the insistent padawan.

**Breaking News, Holo-1 Broadcast**

"—the Jedi commander went missing just after defeating the Mandalorians at the small, rim-planet of Malachor V. It was believed that Knight Revan had followed the remnants of the Mandalorian fleet into deep space. However, reports confirm that it was Revan who invaded the shipyards of Foerost three days ago. Repeated attempts to contact the Jedi Order have been met with silence. The close-mouthed Jedi do little to clear their Order's name in this matter, issuing only the following brief statement: 'We are considering this issue and fully exploring every possible avenue for successful conclusion to these events.' Cryptic, as usual.

In other news, the banking planet of Telerath…"

**Dantooine**

The image on the viewscreen didn't resemble the Jedi Knight that Bastila remembered. Revan had been…_Revan had been vital, charismatic_, she thought. The woman on-screen was stiff, peaked; she looked exhausted.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and focus on what was important, as she had been trying to do all day. Revan had betrayed the Order. She had betrayed the Jedi, the Republic, and all for which they stood. The viewscreen suddenly went blank. As Bastila turned around, she caught the last movement of her master's lowering hand.

"Padawan, what are you doing?"

"Master Vrook, I…was watching a holoreport. Master Kavar was here, as well, until a moment ago. The media are putting forth many theories as to Revan's motivation, each more outrageous than the next." She paused, quirking her mouth, then taking a deep breath. "Master, they displayed an image of Knight Revan, and she looked ill. I don't know how to explain it in any other way—"

"The dark side, Bastila."

"But, why—"

"Do you think such darkness can stay hidden for long? It is merely a case of the exterior reflecting the corruption of the interior. Her appearance reflects the depth of her fall. The image you saw was probably quite old, too; they say she took to wearing a mask near the end of the war. It only stands to reason that she needed to hide her transmogrified features."

"Does it happen to them all?"

"No. Some _Sith_ manage to hide it, with the Force, or through other means. Take that exiled Dex, for instance. Most, however, are so inflicted. If this is the case with Serena Revan, then she has truly fallen…" He trailed-off, lost in thought.

"But…Master, how could she? She was a great Jedi Knight. We all admired her for her skill, her genuine nature, her confidence."

"Arrogance, more like! I'll have no padawan of mine entertaining such thoughts. She is a disgrace to the Order, and I'll hear nothing more about it." He took a seat on the floor.  
Bastila bowed, still slightly confused. "Yes, Master Vrook." The young girl sat, cross-legged beside her master. The pair closed their eyes, clearing their heads, and began their daily meditation.

**Telos**

Carth reclined on the lounger, vaguely listening to news reports, and fondly recalling his first date—his only date—with Morgana. He went all-out, intent on charming her with his wit and personality, romancing and thrilling her.

He had wanted to marry the girl with fiery red hair from the moment he met her, but he knew he couldn't just propose to her without some kind of courtship. It had taken immense will power not to beg immediately for her hand. She'd been all smiles after their date, insisting it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her and saying how she wished it would never end. Carth had gently taken her hand, stroking her hair. She started kissing him…eventually, shoving him back onto the couch in his dormitory…

Carth chuckled at the memory. A few weeks later, Morgana realized she was pregnant with Dustil; they'd both gotten what they wanted that night.

_And now, I need to do it again, need to charm her and remind her why she married me. So she doesn't __**kill**__ me when I tell her._

Morgana opened the front door and held it while the droids brought in the groceries. She looked tired, a bit frustrated. "What's wrong, Beautiful? Tough trip?" He hastily turned-off the viewscreen, hoping to avoid any discussion of Revan for as long as possible.

She scowled at him. "Yeah, you could say that. There's some kind of blockade around Onderon and the grocer can't get any boma steaks until it lifts. So…we're stuck with iriaz; sorry. I know it's a bit stringy, but we'll have to make due until they can suss out their differences. Everyone was cranky, including the butcher." 

Morgana sighed, watching the droids put the groceries away, and arched her back in a long stretch. _'Verse, she's gorgeous!_ His eyes roamed along her back to her delicate neck and jaw. He rose and quietly walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into him. "Come on."

He dragged Morgana away from the kitchen pantry and down the hall to the 'fresher. Sealing the door, Carth slowly unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall to the floor. Then, he knelt on the floor, removing her dusty boots and leggings. Stepping back, silently observing his wife's naked beauty, the fragile perfection, he was awestruck. He leaned into her, whispering heavily into her ear, "You get cleaned up. Take your time and relax. When you're done, we're going out, just the two of us. We're gonna have a _second_ date." He grinned at her.

"But…" Carth placed a finger on her mouth and shook his head. A crooked smile played across her features. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, then turned toward the shower. He left her to it, relieved that the plan was going so well.

The dinner was exquisite. They shared a private dining pod at a restaurant that served Alderaanian fare. Morgana's constant smile made Carth's heart feel a bit lighter.

When they went dancing, he remembered all of his most charming moves, leaning her back and spinning her around. She giggled as she had when they first met.

It seemed…perfect; but he knew it would end. He had to tell her. _But not tonight. Don't ruin it._

Morgana watched him as he ate, politely cutting his meat, intent on remembering all of his manners. When he caught her staring, he just smiled and she felt the warmth of it sink through her, filling her. It was the first time since he retired that she truly felt he was happy.

The day he came home from the war kept playing over in her mind as they ate and danced, all the way back home. _It's been just over a year. I didn't think it would last, to be honest. I thought he'd feel the need to run off and play hero somewhere else._ But, to her, to Dustil, to the Republic, Carth was a hero. He _deserved_ a rest, and she deserved to get to know him again.

Now, as they reclined on a blanket in the park, stargazing, reminiscing, Morgana was sure that he was the same Carth Onasi she had married: thoughtful, caring, romantic when he got the urge. Or _when he wants something_… She arched a brow at her husband as he rolled toward her and caressed her cheek. If he did want something, aside from their present preoccupation, it could wait.

"You what?!" She threw a punch at Carth's face, missing by the tiniest space.

"Hey, Beautiful, take it easy." He dodged another punch. "I thought…"

"Last night, you thought you could win me over with our little date. Thought you could soften me up, didn't you?! I thought you were just being romantic. Jerk!" Morgana flung her red hair over her shoulder, smoldering, her anger barely contained. "You know how I feel about this—I thought we had an agreement! And to think you VOLUNTEERED! What do I tell your son, Carth? What do I tell Dustil when he finds out that his father's gone, again?" She was crying, rubbing her eyes with her hands, trying to stop the tears. She kept sobbing into her palm, "You promised. You promised us."

"I know." He tentatively reached over, rubbing her back with his hand, running it through her hair. "I know I did. I'm sorry. I wish you knew just how sorry. I wanted to give you a good memory, for while I'm away. That's all."

"But you shouldn't have to be away in the first place."

"We're under attack! Revan—"

"So let the active soldiers handle it! Why you? Why do you insist on being at the frontline of every battle? I bet you signed up that very afternoon!"

Of course, he had. _Why can't she see that I need to protect them? I love them both too much to let anything happen to them._

Morgana's anger was wearing thin, replaced by forlorn resignation. He hated to hear the defeat in her voice, but it was a sign that the fight was nearly over. It was the only way he was getting out that door and onto his transport. The admiral needed him on Coruscant yesterday.

Carth slung a pack up onto his shoulder, and checked his holsters. "I love you, Morgana." She glared at him. "Tell Dustil I love him, too. You're everything to me. I won't be gone for long. I'll be back soon enough, I swear it." He leaned to kiss her and she tried to dodge him, but he found her lips and kissed her tenderly, tasting her mouth and her tears, longing for that kiss to never end as she pressed herself to him…

And then he found himself walking out the door. Jumping into the transport. Waving to Morgana as she stood, stoic, in the doorway. Watching his home grow smaller on the early morning horizon. 

Her gaze followed the transport until it disappeared beyond the horizon. Closing the cottage door, Morgana collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, holding her face in her hands. She knew she should be strong. She was a soldier's wife, had been for twelve years, and soldiers' wives were supposed to be better than this. _But I only got to be __**Carth's**__ wife for a year. One year, and he pulls himself out of retirement. I know he loves us. It's just that he loves the Republic more._

It was then that she heard someone enter the room and looked up just in time to meet the dark eyes of her son. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his mother and squeezing her tightly, not needing to ask. Dustil knew Father was gone, again.

**One week after Revan's attack on Foerost. **

"Admiral Karath, a 'Carth Onasi' is here to see you," the comm blared into the room.

_A Carth Onasi?_ The admiral grinned and shook his head. _The Carth Onasi, more like._ He owed his life to the younger man for his heroism at Serroco—his protégé, his legacy. Now, it was time to redeem that debt. _I must make him see._

Admiral Karath pressed the comm button, "Send him in, ensign."  
It was mere moments before the door to his office 'whooshed' open to reveal Carth Onasi. The pilot ambled into the office, flopping down in a chair across from Karath. The admiral noted that Carth was wearing his orangish flight jacket—_A good sign._

"Carth, my boy, emerging out of retirement? How are you? How is—"

"Don't ask, Saul." The admiral started to speak. "Please, just don't ask."

Karath threw up his hands. "Alright, Carth. Let me just get one thing straight: You're here, aren't you? Not still at home with _her_? It won't do you any good to dwell on it."

Carth grunted, nodding. "Yes, sir. You wanted to see me about something?"

"Indeed. Carth, we've been together for the better part of twenty years. We've risen through the ranks together, covered each other more times than I can count."

"That's true."

"And I know you, boy, wouldn't you say?"

The younger man offered a thin lipped, bitter smile to accompany his deadpan response. "Probably better than Morgana…"

"And you trust me, don't you?"

"Of course! Why? What are you getting at?"

"The situation with Revan isn't quite as complicated as the holoreports would have you think…"

Silence hung thick in the room, separating the friends by lightyears. Carth's mind was racing, "I can't…I can't believe what I'm hearing, Saul!" He wasn't sure how he even managed to stay seated. His first instincts screamed, _Run!_

"It's true. Revan's intention is not to destroy the Republic, but to preserve it. I know it's hard to believe, but have I _ever_ lied to you before?"

Carth jumped up out of the seat, his hand flying to the blaster at his hip. He concentrated, pushing the murderous anger away, swallowing it, and trying to form a coherent sentence, instead. "Save it? How does making off with most of our fleet constitute _saving_ it? Saul, my loyalty is to the Republic. Maybe it's time you examined your own." He turned on his heel, pausing only for the door to opened. Over his shoulder, he scowled at the older man. "Goodbye…_Admiral._"

As the door slid closed, Admiral Karath sighed. It hadn't gone at all as planned, but at least he knew now. There was no chance that Carth would ever betray his over-developed principles. He'd never abandon the Republic, even to save it.

Of course, those same principles would prevent Carth from betraying his mentor's questionable loyalties to anyone else, either.

Sighing and pressing the comm, he called his assistant, "Ensign, is the ship ready?"

"Ready, sir."

"Very well. Thank you." Without any more delays, the _Leviathan_ would join Revan's fleet in three days time. Unfortunately, he would have to make-do without Carth Onasi for the first time in his career.

**Sehorn, Unknown Regions**

**Many days and many sessions later. **

-inaudible mumbling-

He tried to open his eyes, but they were heavy and crusted over.

_Jaq._

They opened, slowly, fluttering as reality came into focus.

_Hello, Jaq. Good morning._

It's…it's Malak. Could be he's smiling, too. Frack! How would I even know? 

Jaq found that his physical mouth wouldn't move; few of his muscles seemed to be responding properly.

_Jaq, it is time to get up._

_No! No, not again. _

_UP! _

In frustration, Malak lifted him with the Force. Jaq choked and sputtered, trying desperately to make his numb legs work.

_UP!_

Jaq floated just above the ground, above Malak, above the black planet, Sehorn. For a  
moment, he felt light and relief flooded through his entire body. But it was just another trick. Another of Malak's tactics.

_Now you are making me deviate from the program, Jaq. I guess that makes you my first real experiment. We will not tell Chara, okay? It shall be our secret._

Jaq slammed into the ground, crumpling, a mass of bloodied and broken pain.

_Yes, pain. That is the answer._

His vision filled with purple light, his body began twitching, and the merciful embrace of unconsciousness never came.

_The Jedi Council betrayed the Republic. They abandoned us. They hesitated. They are weak. They deserve pain._

Darth Malak ended the Force lightning and allowed Jaq to breathe. It was a similar routine each time, but during each session, he could feel Jaq getting closer to the final, absolute answer.

_But you, Jaq…You deserve a second chance. A second chance to defend the Republic._ Stealing a memory from the back of Jaq's mind, Malak continued, _Ah, a second chance to get your revenge. They took Celeste away, didn't they?_

Jaq's anger flooded his mind as he tried to push back the memory. Force lightning wracked his body again.

_Jaq. Jaq, block it._

Still the lightning pounded into his body, flashing through his mind, shorting every thought before synapse, burning out some of his pain receptors.

_Stop it, Jaq._

The lightning swirled around him.

_You do not want me in your mind, do you? Block me!_

And slowly, a thought made its way through the storm.

_Yes! There it is. Grab it!_

He held the thought, gently, coaxing it toward him from the pain-ravaged center of his brain. He gripped it, analyzing, processing, assimilating it into his being. Pazaak? Memories of his childhood sprung to life before his eyes.

_Do you want me out of your head, Jaq? FORCE me out!_

And Jaq began, falling back on the one thing that came as naturally as breathing.

_15_4, that's 19…

He'd been raised in his family's cantina, after all.

_Yes! You have found__** your**__ way._

Jaq felt Malak's hold on his mind retreat, slightly. The lightning felt less substantial.

_Switch the _1/-1 card, you get 20…

After many hours of "practice," there was a sudden change. Malak found himself abruptly locked out of Jaq's mind.

_Excellent! You have progressed beyond my expectations._

_Switch the _2/-2 card, you get…

"Jaq. Stand."

He got to his feet, as instructed, wincing at the creaking of overtaxed joints. He knew Lord Malak was capable of worse torture than the lightning; afflictions of the soul that he had no intention of sampling again. His mental pazaak game continued.

_10_7, that's 17…

"Jaq, what is your mission?"

"To punish the Jedi. To punish them for failing to protect the Republic and for taking Celeste."

"Very good, Jaq. And how will you do that?"

The smile curving Jaq's pale lips would have mirrored Malak's own, were Malak capable. "With pain." He let the pazaak game rest for a moment and took a deep breath. _Finally over._

_But remember. You are not __**immune**__ to __**me**_

The insides of Jaq's head exploded in another starburst of pain, and, finally, he was allowed to sink into the heavy black of oblivion.

**Many days later. **

Jaq sat silently among the others—_switch the _1/-1 card—as Malak issued their orders, their ships, and their weapons. So far, six had survived Malak's method. His success rate continued to rise, but Jaq was his crowning achievement: a detached killer, resistant to Force-users, and more than willing to serve his masters without hesitation.


	20. Part 18

**Sehorn, 3 weeks after Foerost**

Revan's face was small in the comm unit. Though a mask covered her features, there was no doubt as to her mood. "What, exactly, don't you understand, _apprentice_?!" The venom in her voice was undeniable, but Malak didn't flinch as he felt the Force shudder around him.  
She was on the Star Forge, after all; he was either safe or dead. There was no in-between at this distance. She could kill him, but anything less powerful would never make it. _And she needs me…_

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

**Star Forge**

Even without using the aid of the Force, she knew his thoughts. He thought she still needed him. He thought she still _wanted_ him. Somewhere in Revan's mind a voice laughed, shrill and sour. No longer the shy giant of the enclave—he had awakened to himself in that silent forest…with Jaq, with the others. _How you've changed, husband…_

"What, exactly, don't you understand, _apprentice_?!"

"I do not _understand_ why you want to attack Eriadu when Coruscant is vulnerable and unprotected. We could easily take it, _destroy_ it, and demonstrate our might before the entire galaxy!" His mechanical voice rose to a grandiose, triumphant tone, rife with the darkness within him.

It was almost comical, but Revan's rage extinguished any urge to laugh. "There's a reason I want a bloodless victory, dammit. A death toll's only a number, but it's the kind of number that unites people and allies them against their enemies. If we provide a death toll, we provide a reason to hate us, a way to defeat us—"

"We cannot be def—"

"Malak! Silence." He glowered at her, but did not speak. "Hate, Malak. It is a powerful motivator, is it not? It could be used to press a rebellion. If they surrender willingly—"

"Willingly? You are not the first to try this Revan, and you are not the first to utter such words. There are lessons to learn from history. Even Mandalore should have taken Coruscant immediately, instead of working his way toward it from the rim and chipping away at the Republic. A direct strike would have been most effective."

The sardonic laugh from behind his metal jaw sent a shivering shock through Revan's mind. He made eye contact with her and held her gaze. "It cost him the war, as you well know. The historical evidence cannot be denied."

"You would charge on Coruscant, destroy the very center of order in the galaxy, and plunge the Republic into unrest? Chaos?"

"Why not?" His arching brow scratched at Revan's patience. "It is unexpected."

"It is idiotic! Think! Force, Malak, I thought you were smarter than this." Revan sighed loudly. "Just think! Is it Chara that's got you so excited about violence?"

"I _think_ you are weak, _my Lord_." He rolled his eyes as he said it, and she could feel the reignition of her anger, still hotter than before. However, instead of raging at his stupidity, she laughed.

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

Revan laughed, a throaty chortle, unlike any he'd heard from her before. Like previous ill-fated ventures, she would fail. How could she not? Her intentions might be different—_almost noble, even_—but the method was the same. They could forcibly take the Republic, secure all of its power at once, and ensure that _they_ were—

"Malak, you power hungry cannock! What would you _do_ with such power? That's _not_ what this is about, and you know it."

"You spout, 'For the Republic,' while I seek action—"

"You seek violence for violence's sake. What have you been _doing_ in that grove?"

"It's none of your—

"_Silence!_ I am your master, and you would do well to remember it in the future." He watched her raise a hand, not believing she was capable, and suddenly, he was closing his eyes, breathing through the pain she inflicted across space. _How can she? Held…something…back…_

In a whisper, he answered her. "Yes, Master." The pain subsided, as quickly as it had begun.

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

"We are done, Malak."

"Wait, Revan! M-master. I insist…you take me with you. We have plenty of hunters now; my work here is complete. Allow me to accompany you to Eriadu." While she sensed his insincerity easily enough, Revan had to admit that his presence might present a more united front.

Dismissively, she said, "Fine. We shall depart as soon as you arrive at the Star Forge."

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

**Sehorn**

As the channel went dead, Malak seethed, allowing his suppressed anger to come to fruition. The woman he had been breaking before Revan interrupted whimpered at his approach.

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

**Star Forge, one week later**

For hours, Revan had replayed their conversation, searching for the source of Malak's indignant behavior. _He doesn't respect me. I'm still his wife, in his head. The wife he married on Telos. The wife he saved on Malachor V. Just a girl, really. _She needed to remedy that.They were no more husband and wife than they were followers of the Light. _I'm his master. He needs to understand _that_, at least._

She knew he was having kriffing the people he broke. Enough spies had told her as much that it wasn't even a question, anymore. And on this simple truth, an idea began to form. If he could have 'lovers,' why couldn't she?

Revan found them in the training rooms, some of her newest recruits from the outer rim, ignorant of the Force, and eager to please their Lord. And they did, to a point. Beside her lay the fifth, a statuesque young man with blond hair and swimming blue eyes. He'd smiled prettily after they made love, and told her she was beautiful as she folded into his arms.

There was a tremble in the Force as Malak approached. Revan felt it to her core, keenly aware of his progress through the Star Forge. His anger had cooled, replaced by a dull malice that heralded his arrival. The soldier stirred as Revan climbed out of bed. _Shh. Sleep. Sleep a while longer._ The man stilled, sinking instantly back into slumber. _This should prove…interesting, at the very least._ She donned the mask and black robes—_Ulic, what would Master Nomi and Master Vima think of me now?_ —and made her way to the door. A bit more sparring was just the sort of distraction she needed.

As she left the apartment, Revan was careful to check the locking mechanism. _Wouldn't want it to block any visitors._ She smiled beneath her mask when she found that there was no voice of reason to berate her, no pang of guilt. It was liberating.

Less than an hour later, Revan felt a large release of power and it was intoxicating. _What took him so long? _She had to stop herself before nearly decapitating her sparring partner.

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

"Schutta! Where are you?!" He glared at the charred body discarded among the remnants of Revan's bed clothes. She wasn't there. _Of course, it was a setup. Perhaps even a cruel joke? How many? How many has she had? And right here in the open! We are STILL MARRIED; she is STILL my WIFE!_ His anguish and desolation paled only in comparison to his swelling rage, and lightning struck the body again, bringing forth more smoke and renewing the acrid scent that already suffused the room.

The door whooshed open and Revan sauntered in, nonchalantly glancing at the charred mess of her bed. "Hello, husband. Miss me while you were on Sehorn?"

"He is dead, bishwag. You don't have anything to say about this?" She shrugged at him, her face a mystery behind that damnable mask. "How many, Revan? Just tell me how many?"

"Enough, apprentice. As many as I needed." He tried to respond, but his mind rebelled as Revan removed her mask. The cool smile it hid seemed to disarm any kind of retaliation. _I loved her. I thought I did not; I was certain I __**could**__ not; but, I loved her, even until moments ago. But, I won't be her fool. This is too much._

"Come, this matter is behind us. _We_ must look to the future: our future, the future of the Republic. We depart for Eriadu immediately."

"I killed your lover."

"So?" She strode purposefully out of the room.

Watching the prime opportunity pass before him, Malak acquiesced, following his Dark Lord toward the docking bays, a mere shadow to her powerful presence. _I will find a way to…to make her hurt as much as I. She cannot truly be so in control. I will find a weakness._

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

**En route to Eriadu, burgeoning industrial capital of the Republic **

The bridge of the _Leviathan_ bustled with activity. One of the last surviving Interdictor-class ships in the fleet, it was also the best outfitted of Revan's vessels, equipped with the newest plasma cannons available. Not that she planned to need them, but they did make a good show of force. Malak stood solemnly beside her, brooding. He hadn't spoken more than a few words since their departure and these had been reverent _"Yes, Master_s" and _"As you wishe_s."

_I could get used to that_, she thought. Aloud, she said,"Malak, I'm tired. We won't be there for a while and I haven't slept in ages." She smirked behind the mask as the tips of his anger brushed her mind. "I'll retire now, but wake me when we arrive at Eriadu City."

"Of course, Master." His heavy gaze moved over the mask, then returned to watching the streaking stars of hyperspace.

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

Upon reaching her apartments aboard _Leviathan_, Revan realized she really was tired. Opportunities for sleep were infrequent, and truly refreshing sleep was even rarer. Closing her eyes, sinking into the bed, she sank into a deep, dream-filled slumber.

_The attack was so sudden, as these things often are, and no one was prepared. The screaming people, burning flesh, too many staring faces unable to cry. So many just lay where they fell, curled for protection: shock. Buildings smoked, collapsed in on themselves, becoming tombs. Plasma cannons were still firing down on them at random intervals, booming and rumbling like thunder in the distance. _

_She'd been here before. But, it wasn't the Mandalorians, after all. She glanced around for the couple she knew she would meet and shivered at the memory of their horrible, familiar faces._

_Refugees flooded out of the city, and she was wandering the paths they took, leaving their trail of dead and dying, too numb to care, to notice...A child's crumpled form lay, discarded, in the corner of a courtyard...Black smoke issued from charred homes...bodies...Every pane of glass was shattered, every door unhinged...On the road, between blocks of broken houses, two dirty balls of robes...She approached, preparing to pass them up, not to look at another corpse...He was alive...He was holding a woman, stroking the blood-caked hair, caressing the cold, dead cheek...She paused, mesmerized by such devotion...'I loved you...I was here...I couldn't protect her...this wasn't supposed to happen'...the man looked up at her, his face smudged with blood...'it could have been prevented'...the nameless face of the woman lolled beside him, dead eyes wide and staring at Revan accusingly. And she whispered, 'It wasn't my fault,' her voice falling flat and bland against the backdrop of destruction._

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**Five hours later**

Revan awoke in a panic and cold sweat to a dark room, disoriented and unsure of her surroundings. Tripping to a wall panel, she brought the lights to full intensity, banishing the last of her tired confusion. _But the noise continues!_

She slipped on her boots, robes, and mask, and punched the door mechanism. Nothing happened. She slapped it, again. Still nothing. More booming and crashing, distant yet near enough to be of some concern. _What's going on?_ A small, sporadically blinking word on the door panel caught Revan's attention.

"Locked," she whispered. "Locked! Malak!" Raising a hand, Revan's Force waves slammed the door out into the corridor. Without hesitation, she began running, mumbling to herself, "I can't believe it. No, dammit, I can! I should have known he'd try something…Eriadu would have been a useful ally." A new thought occurred to her, bringing her to a dead stop, another cold sweat breaking out along her already perspiring skin: _Coruscant?_

Forcing her feet to move, Revan continued her enraged diatribe, power building up around her. _I'll kill him! _She hurried down the deserted corridors, under flashing red bulbs that popped, one-by-one, as her rage brushed past them. The floor panels bubbled and cracked as she stormed onto the bridge of the _Leviathan_.

"MALAK!"

The sound of metal meeting metal rang across the bridge as Malak's jaw connected with a bulkhead. Metal against transparisteel, as he slammed against a large viewport.

"Rev—" She slammed him into the viewport again, face planted against the framed image of a desolated planet below. They were in low orbit and the two Sith Lords watched as the _Leviathan_ and the bulk of Revan's fleet rained destruction onto the surface.

_The surface of Telos. _A small gasp escaped her lips.

"Lord Revan…"

"No, Karath. I won't stop them. You know perfectly well that I can't leave this half-finished."

"But, I...yes, my Lord."

"Good man, Karath. Unlike this kath hound, you know your place in my empire." Still holding Malak against the window, Revan sent a single tendril of lightning into the admiral's chest, shoving the man against a wall, eyes wide in pain. "Unfortunately, it seems you temporarily forgot it when you changed our course for this cannock and when you fired on the planet below." She withdrew the lightning and Saul sagged against the wall, trembling, catching his breath. A few of the others edged away from Revan, desperately trying to avoid notice. "You've wrecked this planet—a military outpost, no less. A _strategically important_ planet."

Revan's gaze was drawn to a cloud of small shuttles floating up into space. Karath noticed, as well. "Shall we…?"

"No, Karath. Let them go. They'll spread the word around the galaxy, faster than the holonews, faster than the message net. They'll tell how Lord Revan decimated Telos, conquered it, made it her own." Karath nodded, still trying to recover his composure. Revan slammed Malak into the window yet again. "We shall make the best of this situation and turn it to our advantage. That is all."

Malak flew across the room, the back of his bald head smashing into another bulkhead. His eyes rolled, but Revan forced him to focus. "Alright, Admiral, stop the bombing. I think they understand, now."

Her attention returned to Malak, who was mumbling something incoherent. "What was that, apprentice? Got something to say? Because I know _I do_: _why?_"

He mumbled again.

"Speak up, I didn't catch that." Her voice hollow, brimming with sarcasm.

"Jedi," he croaked.

"Jedi?" she asked, relaxing her grip, only slightly.

"From archives. Telos is…the backup location for…the Jedi Council. Dantooine…Coruscant destroyed…go to Telos. Now, nowhere…to hide…"

"Ah, I see. So that's what this was about? Somehow, I feel that's not all. Continue, Malak."

He hesitated a moment, trying to reach the Force, to do _something_. Revan raised a hand toward him. The threat was enough. "And…and I thought…action…" She could see the fear in his eyes. He realized, now, that she was truly stronger. He understood. "You were…I thought…weak…passive…"

"And…" She didn't really care why he did it—she just liked to see him squirm—so she pressed him farther.

"And…and..." He seemed to grope for words, before, finally, giving up, allowing them all to spew out. "I hate Telos. I _hate_ Telos!" His voice grew louder and his bitterness was palpable. "Telos was the last place in the whole galaxy…we were…we were happy. We were happy, Revan, we were happy. **And I can't stand it!**" he screamed.

"Are those…tears, Malak?" She shook her head in disgust, and then raised both hands, grabbing him with the Force and flinging him into a support beam. With many sickening cracks, his back wrapped around it. She twisted his saber arm behind the body, slamming it into an unnatural position, snapping more bones, tearing muscle, shattering it into shredded flesh. Then she tossed him to the floor, an unconscious heap.

"Admiral, you have command of the _Leviathan_. I'll be on _Victorious_. When this trash awakens, put him in a kolto tank and let me know.

He looked as if he had something to say, but, "Yes, Lord Revan," was all that came out.

Leaning down over Malak's ear, she whispered, "You hate Telos? Funny, I was just thinking the same about _you_."

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_**Victorious, **_**Interdictor-class Sith ship**

As Revan took the bridge of _Victorious_, it was difficult to ignore the somber mood onboard. Her walk through the hallways had been punctuated only by the footfalls and quiet bows and salutes of her soldiers, and the bridge itself was nearly silent. _I miss you, Alin_. The ship seemed much less inviting without Commander Antilles; he'd been the jovial heart of the vessel. Unfortunately, he'd returned to Coruscant before their departure for the Star Forge.

Shaking her head, somewhat taken aback by the sudden burst of melancholy, Revan brought her thoughts together. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Lord Revan?"

"Contact the _Forerunner_. Have them dispatch sixteen battalions all along the inhabited side of the planet. I want five hundred able-bodied prisoners, anyone age ten to twenty-five, who can walk on their own."

"Yes, my Lord."

"They are to take them to Korriban, to a man called Uthar; he'll know what to do with them." Perhaps a few will turn out useful at the fledgling academy. It was where Malak's hunters sent their marks, as well, established as an afterthought, just before the assault on Foerest's shipyards. Uthar was one of many former Sith who rose to the call of their new Dark Lord.

Revan nodded to the lieutenant, turning away from his nervous gaze. Malak hadn't wrecked her plans, just thrown them off-course.

He'd given them a cause, her proverbial "death toll." There would be heroes who thought to incite panic, even resistance, in the name of Telos_Better to let this cool._She'd return to Republic space, eventually. _And after I've razed a few more planets, they'll beg to be conquered. They will, indeed, remember Telos, and they'll surrender before we're even in orbit. She was flexible. Adaptable._

Suddenly feeling the effects of the massive amount of Force power she'd used, Revan chose to return to her suite, Antilles suite, for the afternoon. Her robes swished loudly as she crossed the nearly silent bridge, smirking at the awed expressions on the crews' faces.

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**Hella, Telos**

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Glancing through the small window over the sink, she thought it did look like rain and decided it was time for Dustil to come in before it started. If not, he would ruin another set of clothing and she would be scrubbing muddy stains out of his trousers for days. She leaned out the front door, yelling above the wind, "Dustil!" She knew he heard, he always had a way of hearing when she called. Forcing a smile, Morgana stepped back into the kitchen. It was dinner time, but with Carth gone again, she found every normal activity a loathsome chore, a reminder that he was gone. It would be dinner for two.

Opening the pantry, her eyes fell on a box of spiced toka noodles from Coruscant. "Just add water," as Carth liked to say. A tear rolled down her cheek as she recalled how happy Carth and Dustil had been, sitting on the back stoop slurping the noodles and laughing at each other. Her knees grew wobbly and she closed the pantry, stumbling to the table and flopping into a chair as tears began to blur her vision.

These breakdowns were coming more and more often, lately. They were terribly unlike Morgana's usual, plucky "soldier's wife" attitude. But it was so different this time.

_He promised. No more wars. He was going to stay home, maybe open a cantina...and not go near another Republic ship ever again. He promised to be here for __**us**__ from now on, instead of everybody else in the 'verse. _

She tossed the noodles on the table and cradled her face in her hands. _Carth, how could you do this to me?! After all we talked about, after you agreed that you were finished with the fleet. That you were going to be a proper husband, a proper father for Dustil..._ She sighed, still crying as tears pooled on the table beneath her. _Carth! Where are you?! He's twelve! You've been here for a grand total of three of those years…if you add-up all of the leave you ever took._ She was sobbing now, gasping and shaking, desperately trying to imagine him holding her, whispering in her ear. _I miss you, sweetheart...Carth...We both do... _

Locking her jaw, swiping at the tears, Morgana finally stood, intent on finding out just why Dustil wasn't inside the house yet. The thunder was much louder now...

_It almost sounds like_—"NO!" She felt the shockwave before she heard the explosion. Just as she jumped back from the front door, the Onasi home crumbled to the ground around her. "Dustil!"

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"Dustil!" He heard his mother calling him; she must have noticed the thunder. _I didn't realize I was so far from home._ The gangly adolescent began the trek back toward their housing block. By the sound of it, he might make it just in time. As usual, walking up the last hill, he held his breath until he saw their yard. _No._ There were no flowers in the kitchen window. Father was still gone.

The boy sighed, knowing what he would find inside the house. Cracking the door open just a bit confirmed his suspicion, revealing his mother, tired and careworn, slumped over the table. A box of Father's noodles sat in front of her. _Oh._ He added the noodles to his mental list of items to hide from her.

Dustil closed the door, leaving his mother in peace. He always felt uncomfortable viewing such private moments; and he hated to admit it, but he felt angry at Father for leaving again and breaking his promise. A huge boom of thunder exploded over the nearest mountain, and he decided to ride out the storm in the utility shed, instead, alone with his thoughts. But, in an open patch of yard, between the house and the shed, he froze. A hum in the distance, growing louder, touched upon a memory. _That noise...sounds like..._If there was one thing Dustil knew, it was ships. He spun around, staring in awe at the Interdictor-class monstrosity lumbering over the mountains in low orbit. _Very low orbit. Firing range..._The whooshing air smashed Dustil backward as the ship's plasma cannons fired on their housing block, their town, and the hills surrounding it. Destroying everything.

He stumbled to his feet, shaking, bleeding, tears tumbling down dirty cheeks. The particle-leaden smoke in the air choked him, burned his eyes and nose. He looked around, spinning in different directions. _Which house?!_ He was in shock, his motions jerky, hands and legs trembling. He closed his eyes, focusing his mind, "listening" for his mother in the rubble. He turned north, _There!_ Taking a step toward the debris pile, Dustil's legs buckled out from under him. One was sticking out at an odd angle. "Mother!" He focused again, pushing past the pain, forcing it to diminish. Concentrating on his need to find Mother.

Somehow, he crawled into the 'house', or what was left of it. "Mother!" A hand poked out from beneath a rug in the kitchen. Sweeping the rug aside, Dustil's eyes fell on Morgana. Mangled. A devastated rag doll. Her half-lidded eyes acknowledged the boy, but she made no attempt to move. "Mother, what hurts? Are you okay? What can I do?" He knew they were childish questions, but his mind was on auto-pilot and his mother was dying before his eyes.

"I..." A bang in the yard drew his attention. Soldiers in gold uniform were tearing through the ruined houses. A man in green robes was among them. With a jolt, Dustil realized the man was looking right at him. He leaned down, wrapping his arms protectively around Morgana, telling her goodbye because he knew what that man intended. He wasn't sure how, but he knew. "Mother, Mother, I have to go, now. I love you! Mother! Mother!!" He screamed as the men ripped him away from the only constant in his life, placing him in stuncuffs. He strained to hear the soldiers' conversations over the blood rushing through his ears.

"'Public fleet's comin' soon. Gotta blast this rock, if ya know what I mean."

"What about her?"

"She's too broke to be fun, mate. We could shoot her..."

"No mercy for these scum. We leave her." They followed Dustil's captor back to the yard, and into a waiting shuttle. "Besides, we've got her whelp, and I bet _he'll_ have fun with us, wontcha, buddy?" The man's gold helmet inclined toward Dustil, who shuddered.

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

_**Leviathan**_**, Interdictor-class Sith ship**

The young lieutenant paced the bridge of _Leviathan,_ waiting expectantly. Seventeen hours after the assault on Telos, and Lord Revan was still sequestered in her apartments. Lord Malak was floating, unconscious, in a kolto tank. And the Sith armies were hurriedly returning to their ships. The lieutenant had received word from the _Forerunner_ that the prisoners were secure. He'd also received word that the shattered Republic fleet was nearing Telos. Lord Revan didn't want them to engage the fleet directly, not yet. She reiterated this in every strategy meeting; or, so he'd been told. Apparently, she had plans to use them, later. He rolled his eyes, but quickly looked around that he hadn't been seen.

He watched through a viewport as the last reconnaissance shuttles docked with the Sith fleet, receiving verbal confirmation over the comm. Then, he opened the common channel, issuing the order to begin withdrawal. Just as they initialized the jump to hyperspace, _Victorious_' sensors detected the emerging signature of Republic ships. The enormous Sith fleet disappeared as the remnants of the Republic fleet arrived.

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_**Endurance**_**, Republic Capital Ship**

Carth forgot to take his next breath. The sight of Telos shoved his heart into his throat, clenched his chest. His mouth went dry. His face set, eyes squinted, he was determined not to break down when so many people were about to be depending on them. When he finally remembered to breath, it was a choking gasp, echoed by the other officers nearby. _D-Dustil! Morgana…_ He held off his panic, biting his inner lip and glancing at their commander for instructions.

"Lt. Commander Onasi will take a squad of…of anyone who volunteers to head down to the planet. Medicos and personnel with auxiliary training, please report to the medical bay for a separate drop." She made a point of meeting Carth's gaze as she added, "Good luck down there."

They nearly ran to the shuttle bay—_Gotta find them. _Cold numbness started to settle in over Carth's mind as they disembarked for the surface of Telos. _I __**must**__ find them._

----------------------------------------------------------------- 

From a distance, the inhabited hemisphere of Telos was little more than a scarred and pitted crater. As Carth and his squad flew low over the edges of Thani—the only major city on the planet—the occasional skeletal remains of a building emerged, grasping toward them from the rubble. Plumes of smoke boiled up in front of them, obscuring their vision and forcing them into an open field. Most of Carth's squad hopped out of the shuttle, which hovered only a moment before lifting off. The remainder of his troops knew where they were bound. _Home._

They met the sight Hella, a smoking ruin viewed head-on as they topped a ridge of mountains, in silence. Landing on the plains surrounding his ravaged village, Carth was the first out of the shuttle, running, sprinting across the grass and toward the wreckage. It was...there were no words. _Destroyed _didn't touch the level of devastation. _Decimated _didn't come close. He cast caution and training aside; somewhere in that mess of fire, rubble, and chaos were Morgana and Dustil.

Carth never knew how, but he ended up in the town square, easily a few miles away from the shuttle. Instincts must have taken over when logic failed. "Morgana!?" Their housing block was another mile further, but he called to her, anyway. Shuffling through ruins that stretched in all directions, calling her name, Carth's overwhelmed senses began systematically shutting down, until he felt nothing. Nothing, but the distinct need to find his family.

As he drew closer to their street, _their house_, his knees became liquid, slowing all progress to a halt. _Oh, Force..._ The pile of stone and plaster couldn't rightly be called a _house_. "Morgana!"

He couldn't grasp at enough courage to scramble over the rubble, searching for his wife's body, his twelve-year-old son's body. His family, faces upturned to the sky, eyes open in frozen fear. He stood in the street, mumbling their names. The injured and homeless milling past him paid him no heed. They had their own troubles, and no real consolation could be granted were it offered.

Finally, after many minutes that felt like hours, Carth found the strength to continue. The pain in his chest was tight, cloying, and it took every ounce of his effort to move forward, into his home, into the house he shared with Morgana. That he had only been gone for little more than a week was…was unbelievable. All of those years of neglect were compressed into a singular moment, and every "should have" and "could have" or "maybe later" bubbled to the surface of his mind as he walked. He stopped just outside the front door; no longer a door, actually, just a crooked hole in the wall. Touching the frame, he took a deep breath and forced his feet to move one final time.

"Morgana! Dustil?" Carth shrugged beneath a slanting beam of lumber just inside the front door. The floor was covered in debris; glass, mortar, pieces of their home crunched beneath his boots.

"Morgana! Beautiful! Say something if you're here!" The eerie silence around Carth was punctuated by the calls of other soldiers: parents, spouses, children —all searching for someone they hadn't been there to protect.

The thought echoed through Carth's head, repeating, mocking – _I wasn't here to protect them._ The emptiness of their home overwhelmed him and Carth collapsed to his knees in the rubble, the palms of his hand grinding into the detritus on the floorboards. He moaned "Morgana," repeating the name as his head hung, heavy, between his shoulder blades and a flood of tears fell to the floor, mixing with the ochre dust of the obliterated walls, a chalky, bloody stain.

_Wait! That __**is**__ blood!_ Carth scrambled to his feet, cursing the glass embedded in his hands and knees, forgetting the tears still on his cheeks. _Another, there._ Someone had crawled across the floor, from the kitchen…to the living room…

Morgana was sprawled, deathly still, across the lounger. A layer of the ochre dust covered everything; he could see traces of the trail she'd left as she dragged her broken body across the glass-strewn floor.

"Oh, Beautiful!! Morgana! I'm so sorry." Draping himself across her, hugging her against his chest, Carth gazed down into her ruined face and still saw the beautiful girl he'd married. "I was…I was supposed to protect you!" he yelled, burying his face in her hair.

"…c-carth?"

"Morgana! You're…" In his grief, he had failed to check for a pulse. Her unseeing gaze stared through him. "Lemme get a medic; I'll be right back!"

"N-no…Carth…stay…Dustil…"

"I don't know. I don't know where he is."

"Listen…" Each word sent her gasping for air, the effort sapping the last of her strength. "Dying, Carth…had time to…to think…"

"Shh. Save your strength. You're not dying yet." Jabbing his personal comm, he yelled, "I need medical help, now!"

The comm immediately blared to life. "Yes, sir. We have your coordinates."

With a sigh of relief, he glanced down at Morgana's ashen face. "Hang on, baby."

"…don't…alone…" She broke into a coughing fit. A collapsed lung. As she started to speak again, he tried to protest, but she cut him off, "…don't…n-not...like me…love…"

"But, Morgana, what are you—? I don't understand…" His voice faded as Morgana's body started to shudder. He'd never know what she had wanted to say, but it'd seemed important to her. "I love you," he whispered through trailing tears. He held her hand and stroked her cheek even as the shuddering became shaking, became seizing. When he backed away from Morgana—her still, lifeless body—Carth could do little but stare at his blood-soaked hands. He slid down the wall to the floor, as the medicos arrived, too late to save her.


	21. Part 19A

**Introduction**

It was common knowledge and a lesson of history that the Republic only took care of its own. After Telos, Revan's fleet struck to the planets of the Outer Rim. They were non-Republic settlements with little to offer in the way of technological or industrial advantage, inhabited by people simply trying to eke out a life on the galactic frontier. Bored young men and women who didn't examine the cause so much, just saw an opportunity to escape.

For two years, Revan gathered people to her, sending many to the recently revived academy on Korriban. A few, she trained herself, discovering with them the lost Sith arts. And others, she gave to Malak.

While they were conquering worlds, events throughout the Republic continued. The following are excerpts, moments in time, from around the Republic, the Jedi Order, and the Star Forge, spanning the two year period before Revan's betrayal and capture by the Jedi.

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**20 months before betrayal. [Star Forge**

"Go. You're no longer needed here."

"I'm no longer needed here."

"You slept, passed out, in the refresher."

"I slept in the refresher."

The young man obediently left, unaware that he had spent the better part of three hours pleasuring Lord Revan, sleeping in her bed. As usual, Revan's body had found solace, but her mind and heart had not. In such moments, Malak's embrace haunted her thoughts. While the few months of blissful happiness they'd shared usually shone like a beacon in the past, now that light was dull, no more than a candle in a darkened tomb.

Now, that they each had their little indulgences.

Revan regularly partook of the young men amongst her troops – the waifish dark ones with large eyes and an honest manner, the blond ones with curls and fresh faces. Her own face masked with the Force, they looked upon her as Malak could not. As the girl she was before the darkness stripped her pale skin of color and turned her eyes to sickly amber. Before the pallor and veining drove every Force-sensitive who looked upon her to squirm, even with the illusions in place. She sought comfort in the mundane and, for a few hours, they loved her.

Malak, of course, had his holocron and his experiments. His assassins. Jedi hunters. They were his to make, to kriff, but hers to command, and sometimes she chose his favorites for her own amusement, just to spite him. They were harder to erase, but they were worth it.

"His are so…_feisty_." Yawning, Revan stretched her arms above her head, flopping back on the pillows for a few more minutes of sleep.

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**18 months before betrayal. [Star Forge**

"Computer, what room is this?" Revan asked.

"Answer: This is a storage room. Last accessed…unknown. Is this information satisfactory?"

"Unknown?" She removed her mask, taking a patient breath. "Explain."

"Answer: That information is blocked, deleted, or corrupt. Is this information satisfactory?

"And this?" she asked, indicating the equipment lying in a heap on the floor in front of her.

"Answer: A protocol droid of unknown origin. It seems to be missing its motivator and vocabulator. Is this information satisfactory?"

Revan frowned as she thought for a moment. She'd been searching for droids and the Forge had listed one unit at this location. But, a protocol droid? It wasn't what she'd had in mind. "Do you contain any information on droid repair or programming?" An idea, unformed and still in its infancy, was slowly taking shape.

"Answer: I contain information on the building, dismantling, repair, programming, modification—"

"That's enough for now." Revan marked the location of the room on her map. "I'll be back soon. I think this droid will work for what I have planned. Please prepare the necessary resources related to those subjects."

As Revan turned on her heel and stalked purposefully from the room, the photoreceptors on the reddish-orange protocol droid flashed, then faded.

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**15 months before betrayal. [Bonadan, planetside**

"Dustil…Force and gods be damned!" Carth Onasi pulled a flask out of his flight jacket, taking a deep swig. Shaking it, he mumbled, "Runnin' low," as he stumbled toward the local cantina to restock. He bit the inside of his lip, trying to focus just enough to see exactly where his destination had moved to.

_Seven planets down, thousands to go, eh, Onasi? It's fragging hopeless, that's what it is._

Another gulp of whiskey found him inside the cantina.

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**11 months before betrayal. [Star Forge**

"Yes, we'll accept their surrender. Dammit, we _always_ accept surrender--granted it's unconditional on their part." Revan fought the urge to choke the man on the spot. He was her best administrator, after all. _That's not really saying much_, she thought, rolling her eyes.

Revan's empire had grown since Telos. And as it grew, she'd found the need to employ administrators and other bothersome bureaucrats. _Sycophants_, she thought, disgusted despite the fact that their fawning attentions appealed to some baser part of her nature.

"Master, there are holoreports you may wish to see before your meeting with Rand."

"More about how _evil_ we are? Those I could do without, really." She still hadn't looked at the man, instead opting to stare at the ceiling of her audience chamber. The background sounds of the place, random grindings and rumblings, were muffled by the soundproofing of the room, but not much.

Was the Star Forge alive, and she, a willing meal? The thought amused Revan.

"No, my Lord. These have been gathered from sources across the galaxy. They are seemingly unrelated incidents, but may be of some importance. I am only an administrator of your will and—"

"That's bloody kark, and you know it! Bureaucrat. Just give me the screen and get out." The man skittered out the door as Revan started the recordings:

"…_two missing Jedi. When asked for more information, the Jedi enclave on Hilo refused to comment…"_

"…_no one has seen Master Vor for ten days. If you have any information, please contact your local Jedi representative or send a message to the address at the bottom of your screen…"_

"…_sixteen padawans over the last three months…"_

"…_she was last seen on her way to the capital…"_

Revan continued flipping through the recordings, silently keeping a tally of missing Jedi. _Seventy-two? Well, well, he's been busy._

_Tap-tap-tap._

"What!?" The door slid open to reveal—"Jaq!" She grinned behind her mask, quickly standing and pulling up a second chair. "You're early."

"My apologies, Lord Revan, but Lord Malak wanted me to get this over with as quickly as possible." He ran a stiff hand through his dark hair. Feral eyes shifted around the room and his nostrils flared a bit like a wild animal.

"I see." She was somewhat taken aback by the cold tone and manner he'd adopted, forgetting momentarily why he was there. With Jaq, Revan still saw the boy he'd been. Before. "Is everything okay, Jaq?" she asked, trying to sound genuine.

"Is everything…" He glanced around the room, lowering his voice even though it was mostly soundproof. "Is everything okay? Everything is _just fine_. Sure. Splendid."

His sarcasm, edged with desperation, was not what she had expected. She'd given him good work to do, purpose. He should be thankful. The threat in her words was neither veiled nor subtle, "Jaq. You don't like being my best hunter? If not, I can _fix_ that for you." She raised hand in his direction for effect.

Gaping momentarily, Jaq straightened, his muscles rigid and poised at attention. Looking directly into where he thought Revan's eyes were located, he spoke, his voice ringing through the chamber, "Lord Revan, I am honored to serve."

"That's better." She shifted in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position from which to watch Jaq. She no longer dared to trust the assassin. Not enough to turn her back on him. "I've just received some interesting news, Jaq. Seventy-two Jedi, at least, have gone missing on and around the Hydian Way. Care to elaborate?"

"Eighty-seven, my Lord." She arched a brow, inclining her head so he could see a response. Jaq unbuttoned the sleeve of his black uniform, rolling it up above the elbow. "Fifty-four converted, the others dead for…various reasons." The Sith Lord remained silent, noting his stony, solemn expression.

Approaching Revan's seat, he presented the arm for her inspection: from his wrist to the crook of his elbow, a multitude of thin, red cuts.

"And these are?"

"The dead," he muttered.

"Ha! Excellent, Jaq! A perfect record." Removing a black glove, Revan traced bare fingers across the violent lines, leaving her_ blessing_ in each one. A sliver of dark Force energy—an irritant, a constant reminder of whom he served.

Jaq winced, but said nothing, as Revan's hand moved along his skin. When she leaned back in her chair, again donning her glove, he glanced down at his newly aching arm to find that each of the thin cuts was seeping blood. Grunting, he rolled the sleeve down and buttoned it closed, finally taking the extra chair near Revan's desk.

"Lord Revan, if I may be so bold—"

"You're my favorite. It does afford you some privileges."

"Then, may I ask, what it is like? To use the Force?"

She glared at him. _The impertinence; he has no need of such…_ But perhaps he did. There was no doubt that he was good at his job. And for such a success rate, he must be highly intelligent. After all, no one took down a Jedi by barging in and attacking them head on. It took skill and ability to get close enough._ Maybe he can use it to his advantage._

Sighing, Revan stood and paced in front of Jaq. "To use the Force is to be connected with all life," Kavar's words returned with haunting clarity, "at a level that is both unconscious and ever-present. The Jedi you hunt feel the Force, live in it, see through it. As you have your sight and other senses, a Jedi uses the Force involuntarily most of the time. Without a thought or delay in reflex. It allows them to view the ebb and flow, the connections it forges through space, sometimes even time. To a varying degree, they may be aware of your presence behind a locked door or the individual blades of grass in a field, or, for some…death and suffering may cross lightyears to reach them in their dreams." Revan's chest ached vaguely, but she didn't let her mind linger.

"Why don't they use it on me? When I capture them, it's so…simple." He shrugged, and for a moment, Revan saw a younger, more fragile boy. _How old is he? Not more than twenty, certainly._ He could almost be mistaken for innocent. Almost.

"They have been taught that they are special, Jaq. Trained only in defense while believing it would never be needed. The fact that you can pass those defenses causes them _fear_, and fear interferes with their abilities. It basically blocks out the voice of the Force. And without it, they are nothing. Human. Less than human because a Jedi who can't find their center in the Force is like a blind man who can't find a wall, set adrift in unfamiliar territory. Remember that, Jaq. Fear is the key." She could see that he was thinking, mulling it over. And as she watched him, Revan was glad he was on _her_ side. _Even_ _**I'm**__ blind to him. He's the only one of Malak's that I can't see. Amazing._

"Now, is there anything else we need to discuss?" she asked as Jaq stood to join her.

"No, my Lord. I'll return to my ship. Until my next report…" He bowed low, took Revan's gloved hand, and kissed it. "For Lord Revan," he whispered before turning and striding out of the room. Revan watched his back as he walked away, suddenly very uneasy.

----------------------------------------------------------------

**11 months before betrayal. [Star Forge**

Malak's body screamed as he began the next kata, shaping the forms with precision, his joints creaking. The pain wasn't confined to the physical realm, either. _After all, who taught me these forms? Who inflicted these wounds? Who will fall to the retribution of my new strength when I am fully healed? _

_She_ was on her own ship now, out negotiating for another planet to take up the banner of the Sith.

Arching his back and slowly pivoting on the balls of his feet, Malak brought his saber around and down in a graceful arc. A red glow caught his eye and, as he moved to the next kata, he asked, "How am I doing?"

The holocron's gatekeeper, the image of Chara, grinned broadly. "You seem less sore today. Is this truth?"

"Yes. I find it much easier to move. The poultice has been quite effective." He grunted as another joint popped mid-movement. Chara was still watching him intently. "What is it?"

"I was just, well…before he died, my master developed some very useful lightsaber crystals. Synthetics that could be manufactured, instead of trekking to Ilum. They produced a wider, longer blade--stronger, as well. Able to slice through all but the tightest cortosis weave with the right amount of pressure."

Malak arched a brow, extinguishing his saber and leaning against the desk on which the holocron sat. "How is this supposed to—"

"Master, is the Star Forge not, primarily, a factory? Could it not be used to create such things?"

"Of course, but—"

"Are you the master of this facility or not, Malak!? I have the formula here, in the holocron; use it. Give your Sith every advantage possible to ensure our victory!" Her voice rose with each syllable, ending on a rich, ecstatic note. It reminded Malak of a question he'd long meant to ask the former Sith Lord.

Peering thoughtfully at the holocron, he ventured, "Chara, tell me, what is it that _you_ get out of this? Why do you care, as a holocron, whether we succeed?" He studied her response, unable to detect any hint of deceit.

A tittering, derisive laugh escaped her holographic lips. "I was wondering when you would deem to ask such, my Lord. At first, I was bored of listening to Tulak and Marka argue." She noted Malak's surprised look at the casual mention of such well-known names, but continued. "_Then_, I saw you; I saw the future of the Sith, my legacy, continuing. _Now?_ I see in you the potential for much more than you are. And when I've made you a true Sith Lord, I shall teach you the ways of alchemy. Together, we shall resurrect my spirit and I shall live again!

"We can rule the galaxy side-by-side and no one will _ever_ again treat you as _she_ has, Malak. You are Sith, the truth behind the rhetoric. Seeking strength and power. In you, I see the future of our kind." She closed her eyes, mouth tilting into a pleasant smile. "_That_ is why I am here, Lord Malak."

Malak stood perfectly still, loosely gripping the forgotten lightsaber in his hand, mind humming with possibilities and the urging voice deep inside his skull. It spoke of futures yet-to-be in which he would be called "emperor," and Malak found the sound addictive. He craved it. Needed it. And the object of his hatred…his love, his scorn…was also the one person standing in his way. He pondered, only returning to the present when Chara called his name.

"The crystals, Lord Malak?"

"Of course." He took up a datapad and stylus. "Please begin."

----------------------------------------------------------------

**10 months before betrayal. [**_**Firaxan**_**, Jaq Rand's ship**

The Jedi never saw it coming. He'd hunted her through a market and toward the center of town. Ramshackle buildings in decay stood around them, huts and lean-tos in between. Shelter for the enormous homeless population. She hadn't even been hard to find. His kindest visage loosened anyone's tongue, male or female, and he'd only had to ask once before he was directed to a charity office downtown. Apparently, she was the do-gooding type.

He adjusted his scope, focusing on the back of her pretty hair. A steadying breath. Fire. She collapsed, stunned, into the snowy street and it only took Jaq a moment to reach her. Gathering her limp form into his arms, he tossed her into the back of his speeder and disappeared across town and into the docks.

Safely aboard his ship, Jaq checked her for wounds, shaved her head, and placed the—

"Jaq?!" Her eyes fluttered open as the neural disruptor clattered to the floor. The eyes…those were…they belonged to…He flinched as she eased into his mind, slipping past the defenses he'd forgotten to raise in his shock. His features sagged, the world around him becoming syrupy, pasty, slow…

_When I was younger--when things weren't so complicated--I loved you. At least, the way a little kid loves another little kid. The 'cheek kisses and girl germs' kind of love. _

"Jaq, please..."

_When I was younger, you were my friend and I wanted to marry you. You were beautiful to me and we shared things: grapes, chalk, pillows._

"Jaqquie?"

_When I was sad, you held my hand. When you smiled, the stars looked dim by comparison. We used to play in your mother's garden for hours. _

"Atton!"

_And, when you cried...when you cried, I used to kiss your wounds and make them better. A scabbed knee, a cut finger. I really did it. There wasn't any illusion, not like what our parents always tried to pull, pretending to kiss away the pain. It was real and I'd...I'd forgotten until...just now..._

"I'm sorry...Celeste."

"Atton, wait!"

"I'm so...gah! Don't look at me!"_ The old man, Jolee, he was right. The Jedi took the one thing that mattered to me. I couldn't stop them; they took you away. _

"Atton, it's okay. It's okay, I forgive you."

"Stop saying my name like that. My name's Jaq; nobody calls me Atton. Not anymore."

_I always hated my first name, and you always insisted on calling me that anyway. The last time anyone called me "Atton" was the day they took you away. You whispered in my ear, _"I love you, Atton. Don't forget me,"_ and then you went with the damned Jedi. Just walked away from me._

"I'm ready, Atton. You know what I've shown you is true. You can use the Force. You used to heal me, when we were kids, before we knew...before..."

"So?"

"We used to hear each other's thoughts, too, remember?"

"So?"_ I could move things with my mind, back then, but who cares?_

"Atton, they'll turn you into one of their monsters!"

"I'm already a monster! Can't you see that?!"_ My hand stings from the impact; your cheek is angry and red. My handiwork, a reflection of myself. Your eyes shine, bordered in tears._

"Atton."_ The way your voice sounds ready to break...it breaks something in me, too. And you are suddenly there, in my mind, unlocking a door, hand on the knob, pulling it open...the garden. And in the garden, a chair. And on the chair..._

_The five-year-old version of me looks me in the eye and whispers,_ **Find me.**_ The small boy...the younger me...fades to a blue glow, an apparition, and bursts apart. Violet particles of light spread in all directions, coating everything, until the purplish glow fills my vision._

_And there you are, still standing in my mind. _"Do it, Atton. Please."_ Your ruined body is lying before me, damage I can't remember inflicting, clothing reduced to rags. _"Do it here, where it's quiet and...I-I'm afraid, Atton...I'm not supposed to be..."

_In my mind's eye, I hold you. I tell you I love you. I'd loved you since we were kids, and you say you know. Then, you say something else. It's really faint, maybe like "lover" or "love her." I'm not sure what you mean, even if I hear you right. _

_You smile, and when I lower you to the ground, you don't struggle; when I place my gloved hands around your neck, you don't gasp. You just look at me, pleading._

Jaq opened his eyes to reality. Found his real hands around her real neck, as he knew he would. And for the first time, since he was five, since they took her away, he cried into Celeste's shoulder and stroked the bristly stubble that remained of her once beautiful hair. As the life left her, so his purpose left Jaq. _What the hell am I doing?_

It was then that he felt it, _the Force._ For a moment, he was overwhelmed by the vast ocean of voices and emotion that touched him at every point. _Pain, anger, sorrow. It…it hurts! _The idea to leave, to run, screamed, insistent, in the back of his brain; wriggling and needy and desperate to be heard.

Instead, Jaq murmured, "I'm so sorry…Celeste," falling, draped, over her soft, warm body.


	22. Part 19B

**9 months before betrayal. [**_**Victorious**_

Revan's slumber was unusually fitful. She flailed restlessly in her bed, twisting into the blankets. A voice, sweet and soft, was filling her head. A young, familiar voice.

_Zana._

Let him go, Revan.

Let him go?

Jaq. He's leaving. Let him go.

But…! Revan shot up in bed, covered in sweat, heart racing. _A dream? If that was Zana, is she dead? One with the Force? She can't be._

Rather than investigate Jaq's whereabouts--she wouldn't be able to detect him, in any case—she flopped back onto the bed, giving in to exhaustion. As sleep reclaimed her, Revan's thoughts were of the boy who'd once saved her life and the girl who'd once been an immovable fixture in it.

----------------------------------------------------------------

**8 months before betrayal. [Ord Radama, planetside**

"Another."

"Are you sure, sir? You certainly seem inebriated enough to suit most sentient needs."

"Another."

"Right away, sir."

"Thankshoo." Carth Onasi tossed back his fifth shot of Corellian whiskey before repeating, "Another."

"I'm sorry. You have reached the legal limit based on estimated weight and height, and I am no longer able to serve you alcohol in this establishment." A swift punch set the droid stuttering.

"Fine. I'll go shomewhere elsh." Carth stood, stumbling and tripping toward the door. Looking back at the other partrons, his hazy mind grasped at his reason for being on _'whatever planet this is'_ in the first place. "Hash anyone sheen," Carth rummaged through a trouser pocket, producing a small square card, "thish boy?"

On the card, a child of roughly twelve years old played hologames with his father. Morgana had been filming, and it was the first of many times that Dustil would best Carth in the flight simulator game. Coupled with his love of ships and Carth's credentials, Dustil was due to enroll in the academy next year. _Was._

Turning a bleary eye to the moving images, Carth thought the year of retirement had been the best year of his life.

"We lived on Telosh; he may have been on one of the shuttles that eshcaped. Anyone? Pleash…"

A few of the patrons who seemed to be listening called out,

_"Try Nar Shaddaa, buddy!"_

"Or Bonadan."

"Heard some of the refugees ended up on Donovia."

Carth's eyes fell, shoulders slumped, as he tried to smile, to show some sign of gratitude he simply couldn't feel. "Thansh. I did…" Well, he hadn't tried Nar Shaddaa, but it was the last resort. Carth slogged out of the cantina, unaware of where he was or where he was headed, and far beyond sobriety or care.

So it was that when Carth found his progress impeded and the world turned upside down, he was slightly confused. Where was he?

"Hey, guy, you okay?"

Carth groaned as he was turned over.

"Don't we…Jerik, don't we know this guy?" Uillie stepped close, the other members of their squad on her heels.

"Frig! It's Carth Onasi; here, help me. Dyrna, Marius, _c'mon_!" The four grunted under the deadweight of the drunken pilot, hefting him into their speeder and back to their hotel room.

As Carth slept, passed out in one of the beds, Dyrna placed a call to the admiralty.

_Yes, it is Carth Onasi…Yes, we're sure…Missing since Telos?...Yes, sir…He's currently passed out, drunk…Yes, sir. Of course. Out._

"Our instructions?" The four Republic pilots lounged in the kitchenette of their suite. Marius had lit a cigarra, filling the air with rich, bittersweet smoke, but he put it out as their squadron leader returned.

Dyrna arched a brow and gave him a half-smile. "He's going back to the ship with us, of course."

In the time it took Carth to clean-up and shape-up, he learned two things: the Republic was, again, preparing for war, and they were desperate for experienced officers. It was no secret he'd been in the Mandalorian Wars and that he'd made more than his fair share of spectacular maneuvers and close calls. The admiralty took all of this into account before _welcoming_ him back into the fleet. He'd abandoned his post after Telos, but they were willing to forgive it, mark it 'grief-induced temporary insanity,' and bury it in his files…if…

Carth had wearily signed his name across the line, instantly promoted to commander, complete with ship and crew. His vessel, the _Endar Spire_, was one of the new capital ships produced between the wars to replace the Interdictors Revan had stolen. It didn't have an interdiction field generator, but it was undeniably fast and capable despite its bulk.

He was a good commander, too. Always available for his crew, reliable, competent, fair. No one knew the darkness he felt. The anger, a constant companion. The guilt. Each young ensign was Dustil. Morgana met him around every corner.

The only thing his crew knew was that the commander often sat alone in the cantina, glassy eyed, drinking nothing and sliding a small holovid card around on the palm of his hand.

----------------------------------------------------------------

**6 months before betrayal. [Civilian Transport, bound for Corellia**

The captain was a wisp of a man. Brown skin clung to his skeleton, stretched taut and thin. A vein pulsed at his temple. His eyelid twitched nervously as he spoke, fingering his lapel and rocking on his heels. Bright eyes shone in his dark face and clean straight teeth peeked out of his mouth each time it opened. He seemed aware that he was being scrutinized, examined, but unable to pinpoint the source. Jaq smirked to himself as he stood at the back of the group of passengers. It was his third transport, the third leg of his trip, and his third captain--by far, the most interesting, with his tics and habits.

The captain licked his lips before continuing. "…First Mate Arneau will coordinate getting' you to your cabins. We should arrive on Corellia in three standard days. She's a good ship, and she'll getcha there." He turned on his heel, retreating to the cockpit and leaving his crew to tend to the passengers. Jaq winced at a sudden flurry of emotions and thoughts around him as people began milling about, wishing again that he knew how to turn it off. _Damned people. Damned Jedi._ The new…_whatever_ Celeste had done to him…it was making him into a bit of a hermit.

"Right, then, Mr. Dorton, follow the ensign." The first mate motioned toward a teenage boy before ambling down the main corridor. The boy didn't even bother to wait for Jaq before taking a separate thin, dark corridor. He stopped at one of the last rusty, gray doors. "Here 'tis, Mister Dorton."

"Mr. Dorton was my dad. You can call me _Atton_," he drawled with a wink. Entering the dank room, Jaq…_Atton_ pulled out a flask, pretended to take a long sip, then passed it over to the ensign. The boy peered at him, took his own long drink, and handed it back. With a grin, he left Atton alone and sauntered back toward the main hold. _Good kid._

Glancing around at the meager accommodations, he had to laugh. "So this is what 500 creds'll getcha?" It was basically a closet with a small cot and a threadbare blanket. But it was away from the others; no more thoughts invaded his mind. It was enough. Collapsing onto the makeshift bed, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

_THWOOMP!_

Atton sat up in the dark, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. _How long was I…_ He hadn't intended more than a nap.

_THWOOMP!_

He'd been dreaming, again. He'd never dreamed until Celeste messed with…It was about the war and…

_THWOOMP!_

"What the hell _is_ that?!" Atton was out the door in seconds and inching his way along the empty hallway, muscles taut and coiled on instinct. Nearing the main hold, he paused. He'd learned to trust such intuitions since the day he saved that pilot on _Courageous_. They'd become more frequent over the years and they were never wrong. Currently, they held Atton's feet in place. Peering around the corner and into the hold, he saw a hand…then the body attached to that hand. At least, what was left of it. A movement caught his eye and Atton pulled back in time to avoid detection by…

_Mandalorians!?_ his mind screamed.

Thankful for the training that prevented him from gasping in surprise, Atton watched them pass through the hold. He only picked up mumbled bits of conversation, but gathered that they thought they'd found everyone. _Killed everyone, in fact. I guess I'll come as a shock, then._ He grimaced at the familiarity of that thought. Of the situation.

With a deep, cleansing breath, he removed a short, curved blade from beneath his black jacket with the mental reminder to get a new outfit before attempting to blend in with normal society, assuming he'd live that long.

Of course, he knew he would. Failure wasn't an option for Jaq Rand. Nor for Atton. Even against five fully armed Mandalorians. Closing his eyes, he reached out to recount. _Make that six_. The Force slithered over his skin and dripped through his veins...Just a month before, it had seemed so simple. Until he realized he was using the Force with every breath, just as Celeste had told him. He'd always used it. He was one of _them_. Another wave of nausea threatened, and he lost track of his count. It didn't really matter.

Fishing into another pocket, he palmed a small laser cutter and checked that the hold was now empty.

He slipped amongst the shadows, sliding up behind a lone Mandalorian raider who was searching through the cargo hold. Silently placing the laser cutter at the base of the enemy's helmet, he discharged a single high-powered beam into the weakest point in the armor. The laser easily passed through the seam and into the Mandalorian's brain stem, severing it as it had many Jedi before. He fell with a thud, softened by the crates and bags on which he landed. Atton winced as a pain shot through his own skull.

_One down, five to go. And I thought I was done with this stuff._

He moved throughout the ship, repeating the same maneuver, catching the Mandalorians unaware. His mind couldn't help but compare them to Jedi; they were easier, in a way, but he couldn't reconcile himself with the violence. Not now, after he'd sworn off any more killing. Now that he was so damned sensitive.

Lugging the last of the lifeless Mandalorians into the airlock, Atton smacked the release and smiled faintly when he heard a satisfying "FWOOSH!"

The airlock was located at the back of the ship, so he used the opportunity to raid the galley, grabbing a case of juma and some kind of nutty wafers. Wandering through the silent halls, Atton wondered vaguely about the other passengers, where they came from, who they were. Normally, he wouldn't care, but they were dead and he was beginning to get reacquainted with some long forgotten emotions: namely, _sympathy_ and _regret_.

_A better man would have saved them, somehow. A better man wouldn't have slept through the whole damn thing. Hell, from the beginning, a better man wouldn't have taken the cheapest accommodations possible just to avoid the others. _

Atton's frustrated expression screwed up his face for a minute as he tried to find self-control. He just had a lot on his mind, he told himself, and this was one more thing to deal with. His mood had nothing to do with the child he saw on the floor of the main hold has he passed through. Nothing to do with the bodies he stepped over on his way to the cockpit. The obvious, crude mistreatment of some of the hapless passengers.

He'd decided to barricade himself in the cockpit and wait for the autopilot to get him to Corellia. It would, eventually. He could deal with the passengers – bodies, just bodies, not passengers – tomorrow.

Trying to distance himself from the problem seemed to only call his attention to it.

The cockpit hatch stood half-open when he reached it and, steeling his nerves, Atton entered expecting to find a gruesome scene. Instead, only the gray durasteel tiles and viewport visors greeted his gaze. Apparently, the crew had closed the visors against the blue streaks of hyperspace, likely asleep when the Mandies arrived. Computers lined the walls and console, humming and beeping. One particular beep sounded more insistent than the others, commanding attention, and Atton inched closer, staring down at a small, red, blinking light. Tiny white print above the light read "PROXIMITY."

He stared at it a moment longer before the noise became too much and he frantically started searching for the fix – a button, a lever, a voice command. Instead, his hand came down on the visor release.

The visors retracted, slowly folding into the bulk of the ship, and Atton gasped, going still.

He gasped again, breath heaving, and staggered back a few steps.

"What? What the fra--!"

The ship rocked, and the proximity alarm grew louder, more urgent. Looming, filling the viewports, was a planet. No streaking blue lines. No black space. The tan orb filled his vision, growing larger by the second. A pleasant feminine voice chimed above him, "Lockdown commencing. Autopilot cannot re-engage. Please prepare for descent and manual landing."

_Descent?! Manual landing!_

Of course. It was something he should have foreseen. _Would_ have foreseen if he wasn't so preoccupied. Some part of his mind berated his carelessness, accused him of going soft and sentimental, but he ignored it.

Slamming into the nearest chair, Atton put both hands on the manual stick, wondering if anyone had ever even used it before, and watched as the surface of the planet rose up to meet him. His last thought was of the flying lessons he never took.

_Cold._

Cold and sore.

Hungry, too.

Sitting up slowly, Atton felt around. No broken bones or cuts, just a bump on the head. Shaken, he inched to his feet to assess the damage. The viewports, shattered on impact, opened onto a desert landscape, sand in all directions, a hot, dry wind flitting through the devastated cockpit.

The hatch was still locked. Two bottles of juma had survived, as well as the wafers, whose taste seemed to resemble sawdust, but at least he had food. For now.

Sure that the ship was junk – and unable to fly it, anyway – he wandered back to his chair to think. A glance at the main pilot's seat caused his mouth to dry up, and sweaty palms reached up to flip a long lock of hair back behind his ear as he stared at a large slab of glass from the viewport, impaling the chair. _If I'd sat there instead…_ Somebody, or something, wanted Atton alive, and he muttered silent thanks to the gods and, grudgingly, to Celeste's Force, before scrambling over the console and out of the main viewport.

The gritty air was full of sand, it blew in whorls that traveled the landscape. Thin cyclones of dust and heat. Trudging across the shifting dune, Atton made his way to the back of the ship. It was in worse condition than expected. Ripped in half, the cockpit had landed some distance from the main body. But the galley was in that half, so he pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose, and had started walking, making careful progress toward food.

Gathering supplies was easy. The cabinets, full of nonperishable space crap, had emptied onto the floor and Atton gathered everything he could find, filling pockets, his jacket rigged as a bag, shoving things down his tucked-in shirt. He took a huge bed sheet from the nearest passenger room and filled and tied it off. More wafers, juma, blue milk from concentrate, nutrient pills, and even a prized bar of _choclat_ that he desperately hoped would make it back to the cockpit.

Purified water, likely the most important of his provisions, was also in the shortest supply. While much of the alcohol was kept in locked, sealed containers to prevent passengers from accessing it with frequency, the water bottles had been stored in plain sight. On impact, most had burst, running out of the bottles and into the ship's disposal system. Normally it would be recycled and bordering on drinkable. In the ship's current state, it was simply lost. Still, at least he was able to grab a few bottles of water. Maybe someone would find him before he ran out.

He took only slight comfort in the fact that he could drink himself to death, if needs be, on the sheer amounts of juma and whiskey available in the nearby metal containers.

On a whim, he threw in a handful of blunt dinner knives, as well.

Vaguely aware of the many dead scattered throughout that part of the ship, he stepped out into the desert once more. The journey back was slower. Leaden as he was, Atton's feet sank into every step, sweat stung his eyes, and tickled as it ran in rivulets from his hair to his brow and down between his shoulder blades. A gust of hot wind tugged at his nearly shoulder-length locks, slinging more sweat into his eyes and plastering the hair across his face. Stopping yet again, he wiped at the hair and vowed to get it cut. He'd allowed it to grow, erasing the spartan military cut he'd worn since he joined the fleet. He would _never_ wear it that short again, but something in between would be better than this.

His grunt was the only sound as he hefted the various packages up and over the side of the cockpit and into the viewport of the wrecked ship. Again, he was thankful to whatever or whoever was responsible for his survival. It certainly hadn't been his piloting skills. _I always had that dumb pilot before, the deaf-mute. Shoulda paid more attention._

As he sat in his chair, juma in one hand, wafers in the other, Atton found himself very much aware of the quiet. On his way back to the ship, he'd decided the lack of sounds wasn't due to the disturbance of the crash. There simply weren't any animals. No life at all. Just rocks and sand and wind. And while it was great to be alive, he supposed, he wasn't sure how long it would last.

A few months ago, he'd nearly chosen death. But now that he had chosen life, he didn't see how he was going to get out of this.

**Three days after crash.**

"Oh, gods, I'm bored!" With no one around, Atton had taken to talking to himself. Out loud.

**1 week after crash.**

Atton was starting to worry. Both about his water supply and his diminishing mental health. "One thing at a time," he muttered, digging a bit deeper into the pit. It needed to be deep enough to hold the bucket he'd scrounged from the ship, but wide enough to put more surface area into contact with the air. Every planet he'd ever seen had water…somewhere. Even if it was just the minuscule amount found as water vapor in the air. He spread a large, worn tarp across the hole, securing the four corners carefully with excavating spikes, also scrounged from the ship—the crew must have been sometime treasure hunters, as well. At the center of the suspended tarp, he added a small empty case from the cargo hold.

In theory, it should work. His survival trainers had certainly thought so. He'd just never thought he would need to see it in action.

Each night, the temperature around Atton had dropped drastically, only to warm again in the morning. With the tarp, he should be able to gather meager amounts of condensation from the air during the cooling phase. The case caused the tarp to angle toward the center in all directions, toward the bucket, and the condensation should, hopefully, flow down into it, ready to be gathered in the morning.

He'd spent a costly amount of sweat on the pit, but with luck, he'd get it back soon. There was no way of knowing how long he'd be here. "Forever" sounded so final that he snorted and rolled his eyes. "Okay, 'til I get tired of being nuts and blow my head off." That wasn't much of an improvement, he decided. Instead, Atton just sat back in his chair and watched the waves of heat in the air, sure he'd found the planet's water. 

**2 weeks after crash.**

The pebble lifted, shaking and jumping in all directions. It hovered for a moment before clattering to the durasteel floor. Atton let out a whoop, jumping around, as well. "I did it!! I did it!" The all-too-familiar thoughts regarding his sanity went unheeded as he closed his eyes and focused on a larger object, an empty juma bottle in the corner. In his mind, he saw the bottle steadily floating above the floor and, opening his eyes just a crack, he nearly fell over. The bottle was, indeed, floating in front of him. Of course, the moment he lost his careful concentration, it crashed to the floor, shattering among the scattered pieces of viewport. He set to cleaning it up, biting his lip in contemplation.

He'd only started practicing because pazaak had finally gotten boring. You could only play so many solo rounds before it happened, and he cringed at the thought. Now that he knew he could still do that kind of trick, what good was it?

With the glass cleared, he sat again, sipping on sour, distilled water from the vapor trap and wondering just how long this could last.

**3 weeks after crash.**

"Fracking Celeste and her fracking FORCE!" He kicked more sand into the wind and it blew back into his face. Again. He'd been out of food for two days. He still had water, but it didn't feed him. The rest of the food in the galley had been ruined by the crash and lack of refrigeration, and none of the passengers had smuggled snacks along.

The wind picked up, blowing sand in whirling arcs, bringing it around to hit him again. More began to blow. _A storm!_ His ears were full of sound, a roaring that grew louder. _Which direction?_

Spinning around to find the storm and an escape route, he found a ship instead. It hovered over his own junk pile, easing to the ground, and finally coming to rest in the sand.

Atton's first instinct was to run. Right up to the ship, toward people. But the still sane portion of his mind took over and he dropped flat to his stomach. Peering over the top of a dune, he watched the others as they checked his ship for life, stopping near his vapor trap, regarding it with interest. They seemed to discuss for a moment before turning in Atton's direction. "Oh, frig!"

He scrambled back down the dune only to come face-to-face with the barrel of a carbine rifle. "Going somewhere?"

"No."

"Good. C'mon." The man was thin and tall, but he held the rifle naturally enough for Atton to see that he could use it. Without protest, he marched over the dunes, meeting the rest of the group halfway to the crash site.

The apparent leader frowned at Atton, looking him over. "How long?

"Three weeks? Maybe more. I lost count a while back."

"How'd you know to come here?" Atton's confused expression was answer enough. "Anything for salvage on that mess?"

"Why the hell should I tell _you_?" Of course, his training said not to piss off your captors, but they were the first humans he'd seen in nearly half-a-month and he wanted to keep them talking a while longer.

"Let me rephrase that: I have the option to take you with us or leave you here, at my pleasure. Answer my questions, and we'll at least stick you in a cell until we get back to 'Public space."

"Where are we? What planet?"

"Uncharted. Answer the question. Any salvage?" He glared at Atton, who decided to play along for a while.

"No. No salvage. It was a transport from Druckenwell to Corellia. Most came from Tatooine and Eriadu before that. Some were refugees. Not that it matters; all dead—Mandie raiders." He didn't miss the glint of steel that entered the man's eye. "Damned Mandalorians killed everyone, including the pilots."

The leader didn't look convinced. "And where are _they_? Killed in the crash? They weren't among the dead, apparently."

"Oh, I killed them."

"You?" An arched brow. The crew mumbled around them. There were a few chuckles. But, before they could react, Atton summoned the last of his strength, kicked back, and squatted as the man with the rifle fell forward, rolling over Atton, who expertly disarmed him on his way down. It'd been risky, but he thought maybe a demonstration…Tossing the rifle to the sand, he offered a hand to the fallen scav.

"Yer good, I'll give you that. You killed a raiding party by yourself?"

"Look, it's no big deal. I just wanna to get off this sandbox and you're the first life I've seen in weeks. I'm good with a blaster, unarmed, melee. Hell, I've been a spy, a soldier…" He didn't want to give too much of his past away, but enticing them with a good story seemed reasonable.

The leader watched him, obviously contemplating the odds of betrayal, so Atton adopted a calm expression and simply waited in silence.

"Okay."

As they turned to walk away, Atton watched, confused. "Okay?"

The only response was a shrug and a wave to follow. Another silent "thank you" to…the Force? Maybe. Rolling his eyes, Atton hurried to catch-up.

Aboard the small ship, he introduced himself to the crew as Atton Rand. He didn't really like the last name Dorton, anyway, and he figured lying as little as possible would keep things simple. Safe.

"Welcome to the Soma. She ain't much, but smuggling and scaving don't really require the raciest little number. She's reliable; more'n you can say 'bout most _schuttas_."

"Where we headed?"

"Gotta take some cargo back to the boss, so we're bound for Nar Shaddaa."

Atton's half-grin quirked into a crooked smile. _Nar Shaddaa._ He thought it sounded like a good place to get lost.

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**5 months before betrayal. [Jedi Temple, Coruscant**

It was hot in the council chambers—a tactic on Atris' part, no doubt, to move the meeting along as quickly as possible. She grew impatient with their debate-and-discuss routine. Unfortunately, it was in her nature, a problem since Kae brought her to the Jedi over 30 years before.

Kavar eyed the other masters who sat around the chamber. Zez-Kai Ell's empty seat drew his eye more than once, as did the young padawan, Bastila Shan, who sat between Vrook—his old master—and Vandar—an oddity like Kavar, as both masters only returned to Coruscant when called. Neither felt particularly comfortable on the bustling city-planet.

As he watched Padawan Shan, Kavar could feel Atris' eyes on his back. The familiar sting of jealousy he'd only lately come to recognize and associate with the Echani master. Had Zana been aware of it? He recalled how the two had been friends at one time, though Atris was closer to Revan's age. And then, one day, they weren't. What Kavar had mistaken for Atris' busy schedule, he now saw as active avoidance.

The other emotions coiled within the jealousy were unmistakable. He turned quickly to find Atris still staring before she turned to look elsewhere. She had smiled before looking away, concealing her emotions as best she could, but every thought and feeling was revealed in her posture, the flick of a finger, the delicate flare of her nostrils. _She has feelings for me._

As others filed into the large, round room, he continued to muse. It seemed the stories of her cold heart weren't necessarily true, but nothing good could come of it. He loved Zana—_Shouldn't even have allowed that much…_—and no one could fill the gap that was eating at his heart. It had been too many years in the making.

Kavar patted his robes above a hidden inner pocket. Zana's latest letter from the Outer Rim was tucked within, and he forcefully stifled a grin as Vrook asked for their attention. Vandar stood, looking at each in turn before speaking.

"I have known war. I have known many wars through many human lifetimes. It is never easy, and there are always regrets. Even Jedi have regrets, on occasion." He whispered the last part, dark eyes no longer seeing the council chambers, but a past long distant. With a small shake of the head, Vandar continued. "But we should not allow such regrets to stifle us into fear, into doubt. Revan is counting on this reaction. She is sure we will again hesitate. If Revan returns from the Outer Rim—"

"Not if—when!" Atris hissed. "She has done so once; she will do so again. We shall lose more than Telos."

Vandar watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "If Revan returns to wreak havoc against the Republic, we must have a plan. Let me suggest that our plan," he gestured toward Bastila, "sits here. Padawan Shan has developed the seldom manifested skill of Full Battle Meditation. It is true that many Jedi can use a basic form to coordinate the actions of a small squad, but Bastila is able to coordinate still larger groups: armies, fleets. We have tested this and what she lacks in experience, she makes up in skill."

Atris' brow arched gracefully, but her expression was hard. "You can't be serious! She has developed Battle Mediation? The last to do so was Master Sunrider, and even she couldn't control it well. With her gone, who will train the padawan to—"

Kavar hadn't noticed the red-head sitting across the room until she cut Atris' diatribe off with her cool, confident voice. "Fear not, Atris. I will do it. I am not my mother, but she taught me many things before she left. I will guide the padawan." Master_Vima_ Sunrider watched Atris stutter and finally give up. Her own complacent expression never faltered, something her mother would have praised. He was impressed, both with her self-control and the blatant resemblance to Master Nomi, and returned her nod in his direction.

Vandar made a minute movement, the gesture somehow always enough to attract the attention of the other masters. "It is settled then. Bastila shall train with Vima. Then, she will join the fleet to be placed at their disposal. Is this satisfactory, padawan?"

"I only wish to serve the Republic and the Order as I am needed, Master Vandar. I am grateful for the opportunity."

He smiled as Vrook stood to gaze around the room. Many of the masters felt the urge to squirm under that glare and it was only through years of self-control practiced as his padawan that Kavar was able to resist. "Members of the Council, it has been proposed that we not only allow my padawan to aid the Republic—a move to which I have tentatively agreed—but that we send other Jedi to fight in their war. Every Jedi who followed Revan is now either dead or fallen to the dark side. Is this the future of the Order? A risk we are willing to take?"

Kavar pursed his lips, tuning out Vrook's tired argument. _All of them, except one,_ he thought, imagining what she might be doing just then. He was yanked from his reverie, however, when he heard Master Vandar call his name. Everyone was watching him expectantly. "Kavar, did you have something to add? Regarding the war?"

He eyed his former master, who stood proudly beside the small alien. _Pride._ It was a glaring insult to Kavar's understanding of the Code.

"Masters, I too know war. The stench of death, the soulless stare of glassy eyes as another life has ended by my saber. I know the pain of arriving moments too late, unable to prevent the atrocities of a conquering army. I have ended the life of more than one child because they begged me to do so, quickly and painlessly. They could not live with the violence done upon them." He shook beneath the weight of the years, having never uttered these things to another living being. Everything he'd wanted to spare her. "I do not wish to repeat those times. I wish never to arrive too late, again. I suggest, with due humility and reverence to my esteemed master"—he nodded to Vrook, who just scowled—"that we set up defenses now, soon, to prepare for her inevitable return. And I suggest we strike her hard and fast."

"Very well; we shall discuss this further this afternoon. As for other matters, Master Tamash, you wished to address the Council?"

"Yes. I have come to discuss the agricultural proposals for Drasas VII…"

It was a hollow victory, and Kavar sat quietly through the rest of the meeting, fingers trailing across his lightsaber hilt, visions of Yavin and a younger Vrook filling his head.

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**4 months before betrayal. [Star Forge**

"Holoreports, my Lord." The newest of her administrators stepped forward carrying a disk. As he slipped it into the slot below her viewscreen, Revan mused that he seemed more reliable than her last, though none of them had truly done their predecessor justice. It was important for Revan to be surrounded by competent servants. Replacing those who were not, well, it made sense.

Smirking beneath her mask, she wondered what it would take to replace Malak.

"Lord Revan," the report started, "as always, it is a pleasure. We have many fine young students to present to you, as always—those nearing the halfway point in their training. They began their careers with us as children, our youngest recruits, and their progress has been astounding."

A roster appeared before Revan and she grunted, "All." Uthar's voice began droning in the background, commentary to each of the portraits being displayed. A young girl, blond, thin, passed across the screen. "Stop." The child was around fourteen years old, but those eyes…She made a note on her datapad: _"Selene Dennat,"_ followed by _"Seer?"_

"Continue."

More droning and passing of portraits. Revan's mind wandered. _So many young recruits. By the time they are adults, the war will have ended and they will be the new citizens of the Sith galaxy. The new nobility. Master Kavar always said_—her heart didn't even clinch—_that children are the embodiment of hope for the future. So much potential shouldn't go to waste._

"STOP!" A sharp, mechanical voice boomed across Revan's sitting chambers, reverberating in the silence that followed.

"Malak? I was just thinking about you." Behind her mask, Revan sneered at her husband, who stood gawking at the screen. Try as he might, he couldn't hide the underlying current of excitement…and something darker underneath, something hungry.

"Can I…can I _have_ him, Revan? I need an assistant, and it states he is an historian. I _need_ an assistant…"

The _need_ amused Revan, who answered with a non-committal nod and a "We'll see." Revan added another name to her datapad: _"Dustil Onasi,"_ along with the notation _"For Malak"_ written alongside.

**Sith Training Academy, Korriban, three weeks later**

Lord Revan's heavy presence filtered through the corridors, permeating the dark corners of the academy. The young Sith felt the darkness roll over them, and there were few who didn't blanch and shudder. She stopped at each "niche" in the dormitory wings, conversing with the students, making small talk.

When Revan reached Dustil, she looked at him for a moment, reading his presence in the Force, perhaps even his thoughts. He tried to think proper Sith thoughts—power, strength, victory—and pushed all of his thoughts of home, Selene, and Father to the back of his mind. She wasn't as tall as he expected, and, when she spoke, her voice was neither loud nor soft. It was a clear, ringing bell in the darkness, filling up the room…yet, at the same time, cold and steely.

"Hello, Dustil." He hadn't told her his name. "Are you enjoying your time at my academy?" A black and red mask hid her expression, but he hoped she was smiling.

"Yes, my Lord Revan."

"And what, exactly, do you enjoy here?"

"The…the knowledge I…gain each day, my Lord. I enjoy learning." It wasn't what he'd planned to say. It was as if the thought compelled him to speak of its own will.

"Knowledge…Yes, knowledge can serve us well. Curiously, it is also one of the tenets of the Jedi Code."

Dustil paled further. _She's going to kill me._

"No, I'm not going to kill you." She paused, as if considering. "Malak would like you, Dustil. The Star Forge contains a vast archive of knowledge gathered from across the galaxy, which he has undertaken to study. When you're finished on Korriban, you will come to the Star Forge to serve as his assistant. Does this please you, young apprentice?"

A terrifying vision flashed before his eyes: _He was lounging in Lord Malak's bed, the Dark Lord's apprentice gently stroking his hair; his own hand reaching out toward pale flesh… _Revan laughed. It was a terrifying sound, but only fractionally so compared to his vision. _Her_ vision; what Revan wanted him to see.

There was a long, silent pause that followed the echo of her metallic laughter and it seemed forever before she spoke again. "Dustil…yes, you will be Malak's assistant. He will like you very much."

"Y—yes, my Lord Revan."

The Dark Lord abruptly reached up and touched his cheek with a gloved hand. "Shame about Telos." She laughed again, moving away, her entourage close behind, as Dustil desperately held back his tears.

What he couldn't know was that Lord Revan had made a decision that day. When she saw into his mind—his mother dying in his arms—something _twisted_ inside her. Her own mother's screams filled her thoughts and Revan bit back a sob. She would deny Malak's request, though she wasn't going to tell Dustil. Maybe he could use his fear to grow a backbone.

The Sith Lord nodded, vowing that Malak would not have the boy with whom she had found such fundamental common ground.


	23. Part 20A

**4 months before betrayal. [**_**Maldeavor**_**, Anoth Orbit**

The blackness of space stretched before them, empty and undisturbed. It was just the way the first mate liked it; as uneventful as possible. His shift was nearly over, and after that, he didn't care if mutant space gizka attacked. _Ain't my problem._ Adjusting his position in the chair, back stiff, and then reclined, stretching tired muscles.

That stretch may have saved him the initial shock, though little else.

He wasn't watching as Revan's ships emerged from the darkness, materializing out of the empty serenity before him. Space-time boiled away at the borders of her army as they ripped through hyperspace. Only the blue-shifting flash of their arrival signaled that something was amiss.

Snapping upright, he cocked his head, eyes wide in horror as _Victorious_ opened fire on Anoth, the first round of Star Forge-produced planet killers volleying the surface, cracking the crust. The captain of their treasure hunting operation came running into the cockpit moments later.

"What the h—" The second round of Revan's assault obliterated the small ship and rent the planet in three. The resultant shockwave rolled over the spot where Revan's ships had been, though they had already merged back into hyperspace and steadily traveling away from the ruined planet.

_**Victorious**_**, Anoth Orbit**

For Revan, watching aboard _Victorious_, it was both a successful test and a haunting reminder of Malachor V. As they made the jump to lightspeed, no one dared break the still atmosphere of the bridge.

Finally, Revan asked, "Did we get the recording?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good." Something unidentifiable shuddered inside of Revan as the full effect of what they'd done solidified in her mind. She sighed. "Good…"

**Jedi Temple, Coruscant**

The first time he saw the holo, heard her message, he didn't believe it. The second time, he didn't _want_ to believe in destruction of that magnitude. By his third time watching the holorecording, witnessing Anoth's decimation, Kavar was finally convinced. There was no longer any doubt as to Revan's intentions, nor the lengths to which she would go. The betrayal cut deep, but concern for Revan, his former student, overshadowed everything.

In a message addressed specifically to Kavar, however, she confused him once again. He played the audio message multiple times, unable to reconcile her words with the images on the holovid:

"Master, please understand. The Republic is not the prize; it is the victim of a crueler game. Bear this in mind as the future comes to pass.

I trusted you to keep her safe. I sent her back to you. Recent events have lead me to question the value of such protection. If you have any way of doing so, if she is still alive, please keep her by your side. It is where she most wished to be.

I have sent one copy of this vid to the primary holonews headquarters, one copy to the Galactic Parliament, and the copy included with this letter.

See it for what it is, Master. It is for the future and the Republic."

The comments obviously referring to Zana were puzzling, at best, but nothing indicated that harm had actually come to her, only that Revan was worried. Did she know of Zana's exile? Perhaps.

The last line, however, he found most perplexing. "She's doing this for the Republic?" How did the destruction and upheaval of the galaxy, falling to the dark side, and having scores of Jedi slain benefit the Republic? Revan's delusion ran deep, no doubt; he just hadn't realized how far she would fall.

Kavar shook his head, tucked the recording safely away, and carried the holovid to Vrook. As the head of the council, it was his own former Master's prerogative. But the audio recording was for Kavar only and, even now, it felt strange to violate the trust between master and padawan.

His thoughts were interrupted by Vrook's door opening, the Master Jedi himself standing there scowling at him.

"We have a problem…" Kavar began.

**Holonews Emergency Broadcast**

"We ask that children are not present for the following report." The anchor paused, apparently waiting for parents to remove their offspring from view. "The following video was received only moments ago from Darth Revan, leader of the Sith Forces wreaking havoc throughout the Outer Rim. Sources have confirmed the events depicted are real. We are still awaiting an official response." The anchor again paused, and the camera view switched to the planet Anoth and Revan's ships materializing out of hyperspace.

**Galactic Parliament, Coruscant **

"Senators! Please be seated and calm." The chancellor attempted to restore order as the last seconds of vid filtered past. With the destruction of the planet, the Senate had erupted into chaos; screams, accusations, questions.

Above the cacophony, a lone voice prevailed. "Chancellor? What are the Jedi—the _creators_ of this problem—planning to do about it?" A hush fell over the crowd as the chancellor groped for words.

**Jedi Temple, Coruscant**

The bitterness in Vrook's voice cut through the council chambers. "Kavar, you know her better than any here. You trained her in tactical decision making and strategy, and—"

In a low, equally bitter voice, Kavar interrupted, "Please, Master, _try_ not to sound so damned accusatory?" The two exchanged glares, but Vrook did not continue. "You're right, Master. Revan was my pupil, my padawan for a time, and my charge before that. I know her well, though it goes without saying that _Padawan Dex_ knew her better. Unfortunately—" He fixed another cold stare on Vrook. "—_she_ can't be here to offer her support and insight."

Such open malice was previously uncommon between the two, but Kavar was finding the man's attitude more irritating than usual. Their shared past continuously grated on his nerves and it was harder than ever to control those feelings. However, the council chambers were open to all of the masters today, the impact of recent events too heavy to exclude any of them from the discussion. No one need to witness such a demonstration between Council members.

_There is no emotion; there is peace. _

Forcing his features to return to a placid mask, Kavar began. "Revan doesn't seem bent on the destruction of the Republic. To the contrary, she seems to be making a demonstration. Creating leverage."

"But why Anoth? It is…was uninhabited."

"Just that. With that kind of firepower, Revan could have taken Coruscant." A murmur passed through the crowd and Kavar realized with a mental groan that many of them had not yet thought so far ahead. "But she didn't. She chose an uninhabited rock. I believe she wants to keep as much of the Republic intact as possible. It's an old tactic, and reliably effective when properly executed."

Placing his hands together, Kavar turned his attention back to Vrook. "Your padawan, Bastila, where is she?"

"With the fleet in orbit around Alderaan."

"Have her standby at the ready. We can't be sure where Revan will attack next, but Bastila's presence will be needed." Vrook nodded and Kavar thanked the Force for his silence.

"An excellent idea, Master Kavar." Lonna Vash fixed him with a gentle smile and he was grateful for an ally's voice. "In addition, I suggest we move to create formal search parties for the missing Jedi, as they have yet to be found and there is no doubt Revan's responsible somehow. You each have my report on their last known whereabouts. Perhaps finding them will shed some light on her intentions."

"Agreed." Master Vandar raised his hand, further indicating his ascent. Around the room, the other council members followed his example.

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**3 months before betrayal. [Kuat Sector **

"Lord Revan, we're closing in on Kuat now."

"Stop just outside their sensor range and regroup."

"Yes, my Lord."

_Kuat. Perhaps the last battle we'll be forced to fight?_ It was worth it, of course. Kuat was ringed by the Republic's main shipyards. A belt of facilities still under construction that would one day encircle the entire planet. Possessing it would effectively disable the Republic from replenishing their fleet. Force knew they'd done enough of that during the last two years.

Shifting in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable, Revan hailed Malak on _Leviathan_. "Are you in place, _apprentice_?"

"We're ready, _master_. Give the word."

"All units forward. Remember, damage as little down there as possible. Just destroy those pathetic defenders." She knew there was a catch. There was no way they would leave a token defense force to guard the precious shipyards. Revan wasn't truly worried, though, because in the end nothing could withstand her enormous attack force.

Just as Revan's fleet engaged their Republic counterparts, a second contingent of Republic capital ships emerged from hyperspace and the uncomfortable feeling tightened painfully in Revan's gut.

As the battle raged, Malak laughed with his grinding mechanical voice and Admiral Karath eyed him worriedly. Malak's laughter increased ten-fold.

For once, he definitely knew something that Revan didn't. Something painfully obvious. And he was sure that she was floundering under the weight of ignorance. That the battle continued without a change in tactics was proof enough of that.

Closing his bloodshot amber eyes, Darth Malak sought the source of the tightness spreading from his stomach to his chest, grasping tendrils of the Force that led back to one of the last ships to arrive. He followed the flow of power down into the ship, along its wide corridors, and onto the bridge. There, nestled amongst the ensigns and pilots, was Vrook's padawan. She was a bright light of fevered action within an otherwise placid darkness.

With a gasp, Bastila's concentration faltered, finally failing altogether. Controlling so many ships…it was simply impossible. The seventeen-year-old screamed as someone or some_thing_ intruded on her mental calm, pressing, pulling. And, abruptly, she disengaged from the battle. Falling. Falling to meet the floor. Or the floor came up to meet _her_. In either case, she sank below the threshold of consciousness as the Sith fleet advanced, breaking the Republic line, taking Kuat and its shipyards. 

Outgunned and simply outnumbered by the strange mix of former Republic ships and alien, black vessels, the defenders retreated, falling back to Coruscant.

Battle Meditation wasn't unheard of and Malak was darkly delighted to use his knowledge of Jedi history. A history that contained three instances of the manifestation of full Battle Meditation. _Make that four. Little Bastila, Vrook must be so very proud. _

Revan wasn't sure how, or why, but the battle suddenly turned. With the change, she felt the weight that had settled between her shoulder blades and in her gut lift. Before she could give it much thought, however, Kuat was hailing her ship and the war, in its various guises, continued.

**3 month before betrayal. [The Galactic Republic **

Revan tried not to look impatient, fighting the urge to tap her foot or cross her arms.

"Lord Revan, your terms are acceptable, of course. Eriadu will agree to the placement of your overseer in exchange for retention of our normal way of life." They were ritual words for the benefit of posterity. Revan was finding that the "demonstration" at Anoth was having the desired effect. For a moment, the hardened features behind her mask relaxed into a tight smile.

"Thank you, Governor. He shall arrive in one standard week. Full cooperation on your part will ensure continuing peace between our peoples. Revan, out."

A blank screen met Revan's deep sigh as she dropped into the command chair and directed the crew to head back to the Star Forge. Eriadu and Telerath had joined the Sith alliance against all odds. Two more planets she wouldn't have to conquer. More infrastructure preserved with civilians left alive to run it. For the first time in many months, it had been a relatively good day.

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**2 months before betrayal. [Star Forge **

"You still need her." Chara crossed her glowing arms and leveled him with a glare.

"Need her!? I have not _needed_ Revan…ever. _She_ needed _me_. My knowledge and strength have been invaluable to—"

She was still glaring at him wordlessly.

"Regardless, I am stronger than she. You chose _me_, after all, and it will be _me_ who will see the Sith Empire to power."

"You are too rash, _master_. And it _shall_ be your downfall."

Malak grasped the holocron, holding it so that the image of Chara hovered just above it, eye-to-eye. "Do not forget your place. You are NOT Chara Parisi, Lord of the Sith. You are nothing. The image of a forgotten, has-been alchemist, at most."

"And you are Revan's puppet! Her dog!"

The impact echoed across the chamber as billions of tiny red and black shards exploded in all directions, skittering across the stony surface of the chamber floor. And in the silence that followed, he wondered if he had gone deaf from the sound. Nothing remained of the small pyramid or its inhabitant. Scrabbling on the floor, his hands bled as he swept the pieces into a pile, desperately gathering the slivers of glass. Believing, in his madness, that he could somehow fix it, reassemble the holocron and reanimate the woman who had become his mentor and companion. _Chara…she's... _

She was gone.

He continued the frantic ministrations until his hands were numb and too slick to grasp the fragments. The conversation they'd been having…Chara's voice repeated the words…_Her dog! You are Revan's puppet! Her dog!_. A sharp pain from his hands forced him to focus on his desperate movements, first pausing to pick glass out of the hand he'd clenched in anger.

_Revan has much to answer for_…and Malak meant to see that she did.

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**1 month before betrayal. [Jedi Temple, Coruscant **

With the news of Kuat's loss and the surrender of thirty-two worlds to Revan's alliance, the situation was growing dire. Food supplies began to run short throughout the Republic as its citizens horded food and necessities, fuel and medical supplies. In desperation, still more worlds called for their governments to surrender. And many did, recalling their Senators from Coruscant.

The Jedi were placed under increased pressure to take control of the situation. Many of the Senators called for the Order to be held responsible for Revan in full, expelling the Jedi stationed on their planets and removing all support. A few more troublesome representatives even went so far as to suggest that the Jedi had too much power, not enough responsibility, and that they should, in fact, be disbanded. 

And so it was that, in their darkest hour, Master Vandar dreamed.

_Haze and darkness. Laser fire races by the viewports: battle. The reality of it echoing much closer, down a nearby corridor. Momentary hesitation, but never fear. Just ahead, there she is, eyes shining with exertion, a sheen of sweat setting off her features in the dim light. "We must get to the bridge! To Revan!" Her voice carries through the haze and he catches a glimpse of her back. Then, her lightsaber ignites, and she retreats into the fog._

Vandar sighed, slowly opening his eyes and sitting up in bed. He, too, was covered in sweat, heart pounding, vision flaring with white spots. A dream of such import hadn't visited him for ages and he'd forgotten how taxing they could be. Recalling the events he'd witnessed, he muttered, "Can it be helped? Is this really the way it has to be? She's only a child." Entirely unsure as to whether he meant Bastila…or Revan.

"A dream? And you're sure?" He raised a brow at the small alien, his longest-standing friend.

"I am sure. There is no doubt as to its origin; only its true meaning is in question." Vandar took a sip of tea, gently placing the small cup onto the table, feeling weak and old, fragile. "Knight Revan was always independent and opinionated, particularly in relation to what she believed to be right. But her intentions were always pure, and she never deserved this."

"No. I think your interpretation is correct. I just regret seeing Bastila more deeply involved."

He rested his forehead in his hands until Vandar spoke. "You didn't fail him." 

Vrook glanced over at Vandar, a questioning look in his eye. The small master continued, "Your padawans are always well prepared and reliable; Kavar is no different. He is a good man, a talented Jedi." He smiled to emphasize the point.

Vrook looked down into his hands once more. "That's where you're wrong, old friend. I failed him in every way. His feelings toward the exile demonstrate that perfectly."

There were moments in which Vrook's logic defied Vandar's reasoning and this was one such occasion. But he knew his friend was stubborn, so they finished their tea in silence, lost in private thoughts. The day ahead would be long and fraught with difficulty that neither wished to face.

**3 days before betrayal [Council Chambers, Jedi Temple, Coruscant**

"Bastila, do you understand why you are here?"

"Yes, master. There seems to be a way for me to better serve the Republic than in my current capacity." She bowed.

Master Vrook stared at her for a moment, not seeing Bastila, but a young Kavar standing before him, full of hope and youthful arrogance. And then it was Bastila again, and Vrook was sending another young padawan to war.

Vandar noticed his friend's hesitation and spoke instead. "Padawan, you have been charged with a duty I would not wish on anyone. Revan's influence has reached a breaking point for the Republic."

Finally, Vrook took up this train of thought. "It seems there is little to be done in the way of defense and the situation calls for drastic action. Master Vandar has foreseen your roll in this war." He was inwardly pleased when she stood silently, respectfully waiting. "You and a team of four will steal onto Revan's flag ship, make your way to the bridge…and Revan. Your assignment is to confront and kill Revan in any way possible." The shock in her eyes, the tremor of disbelief and then suspicion caught him off guard, though he realized he should have expected it.

"Master, I do not mean to question your judgment. However, Jedi do not kill in such a way. It is fundamental. Everyone can be redeemed, can they not?"

When Master Vandar spoke, it was in a quiet, reverent tone that underscored his building regret and sorrow. "Under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, there is no alternative. Though we had hoped to somehow resolve this in another way, it is upon us to do this now."

"Our previous lack of involvement, for which I accept much of the blame, has left us few choices." Vrook nearly whispered as he spoke, choking on the words. "And, it seems, it is the Will of the Force."

Master Atris added, acrid venom in her tone, "Darth Revan must die. You must end this war."

_You must end the war. _The masters' words repeated through Bastila's mind as she wandered the halls of the temple. _Me? A padawan? How can I do such a thing? To take a life. Knight Revan's life. I shall meditate on this and come to terms. As Master Vrook said, it is the Will of the Force, and who am I to presume any expertise in such things. _Strangely enough, as Vrook had said them, he'd appeared so…defeated; a tired old man with all the weight of the galaxy resting on his back. It shattered Bastila's image of her master, her mind touching on each of her uncertainties.

Still, her heart fluttered at the thought of facing Revan. The entire plan seemed riddled with holes, from the small team to the idea that they could simply walk into Revan's bridge and kill her. It was…well, it was ludicrous! But Master Vandar had dreamed it. Who was she to doubt?

_Darth Revan must die._

Even with Battle Meditation, it would be nearly impossible.


	24. Part 20B

**--- months/days before betrayal. [**_**Victorious**_**, Revan's flagship**

Revan struggled against the weight of…something tight in her chest as she watched the dance of ships across the viewport. Hulking, monstrous vessels bled freighters and fighters into the space between. That small expanse of black was the whole universe for all that one could tell. And the Republic fought as if the fate of the galaxy were spread upon this single battlefield.

If Revan had her way, it would be the last of such battles for many years.

She counted time by the explosions, a living symphony surrounding _Victorious_. The flagship fought alongside the others, plasma cannons finding target after target. And in the background, the ever present staccato of Republic distress beacons followed by pleading voices from somewhere beyond the space within the viewport.

"Radiance_, this is _Inheritance_. What's your status?" _

"Inheritance_, we're taking heavy damage. These Sith bastards keep comin'!"_

Revan's fleet had the clear advantage of numbers. Swarms of sleek, black ships produced by the Star Forge darted and stung at the larger Republic capital ships, easily outmaneuvering their fighters.

"Radiance_, hold your position and wait for reinforcements." _

"_Affirmative. _Radiance_, out."_

Revan's chest tightened again. A dull ache made sharp by suddenness. It had been the same at Kuat, and it would have bothered her had she not been distracted by the next voice to echo through the bridge.

"Inheritance_, this is Commander Cates of _Gallant_. We're under fire from the Sith  
flagship!" _

"_What's your status?"_

"_Goin' down fast! They have some kind of--"_

"_Lost your signal, say again."_

"—_ma cannons. Dammit. Sending out pods, ship ain't gonna last much longer!"_

An urgent pull at her senses, through the Force, and Revan's eyes found the ship. It floated just to the right side of the viewport.

"Adjust the screen! Get it on that ship!" she yelled, poking a gloved finger at the space before her.

"Yes, milord."

The viewport shifted and _Gallant_ filled Revan's vision. Mesmerized, she watched _Victorious_' plasma cannons pound into the Republic ship, watched as its meager shielding began to fail. And felt it. Felt the commander's fear as a final plasma bolt ripped into the hull. Saw his children. His wife. His home on Alderaan. His memories paraded through Revan's mind as if her own. His dreams and emotions. _Sith…The Sith are no better than the Mandalorians! They've ruined it all. They'll destroy us, the Republic, everything..._

The visions started to fade, but Revan's mind lashed out, grasping at the last thoughts of a dying man, his ship becoming so much debris. _Everyone will remember the evil of Revan._ His anger and pain were her own.

His hatred, her hatred.

Revan hated the Sith.

Serena hated Revan.

"No!" Snapping back into her own mind, Revan let loose a primal growl and glared behind her mask. The crew, used to reading her posture, recoiled. "OUT! All of you! Auxillary bridge, and HOLD FIRE!"

"H-hold…fire, Lord Re--?" The captain was dead before the final syllable left his lips, and the bridge was empty. The scent of Revan's lightening filled her nostrils, but she paid it no heed.

Collapsing to the durasteel floor, the pain in her chest was more obvious now, and Revan was aware of every tile, light, computer, person onboard _Victorious_. Familiar patterns in the life around her shifted upon her senses, as she knelt on the floor reveling in the things she'd stolen from Commander Cates' lucid mind.

For the first time in years, tears brimmed the Sith Lord's eyes, but she blinked them away.

_Everything…everything is so clear to me._

For a moment, a brief and vital moment, she had _seen_.

Master Kavar's voice, accompanied by an unaccustomed hollowness, slipped through her mind—_The dark side isn't an entity or a sentient being. It is the darkness within each of us. We all must face our own dim shadows, face and conquer them. Else, we become tools of that darkness, forgetting ourselves, wandering without a light._ Revan had sent her _light_ back to the Council. She'd sent her away and chosen to wander, instead.

_Master?_

It was what the commander had seen when he thought of Revan. A darkness, an infection. _So much hate._ Hate she'd felt as clearly as if it were her own…when she'd seen…

Her voice finally came, harsh and choked. "…a cloud of darkness rolling across the galaxy…"

Revan's heart stuttered. Her eyesight reduced to a pinhole of light, then failed altogether as the vision overtook her--the vision she'd shared with Malak on Malachor V at Trayus Academy…except the angle was wrong. It made things much too clear for Revan's taste.

The ships on the leading edge of that cloud of destruction were _Victorious_ and _Leviathan_. And at the helm of _Victorious_, leading the roiling black fog across the galaxy, swallowing up and destroying everything in its path…was Revan. Not standing proudly, commanding her fleet. It was Revan, sitting on the floor of an abandoned bridge. Revan, huddled and shaking, near tears and alone on the bridge of _Victorious_. As she was now.

And finally, the tears that had threatened found their outlet in Revan's broken cries. "No! No, no, no! We only…I only wanted to _help_! I only wanted to…"

A shrill chord across the bridge chimed a hail from Malak and Revan grunted at the computer to answer it. Mumbling and trembling, she attempted composure.

"_Master_, why have you discontinued firing?"

"Malak! STOP! We need to stop! This is…this is wrong!"

"What are you--?"

"IT'S WRONG! **WE** ARE WRONG! CEASE FIRE!" Scrambling on hands and knees, Revan slapped the open frequency mic and hailed all of her ships at once. "ALL SHIPS, CEASE FIRE!" Her manic screaming had reached a fever-pitch, and Revan repeated the phrase, again and again.

"REVAN! I do not know what has happened, but—"

"Please, Malak…we're the darkness. _We're_ the _darkness_! Don't you see?" Revan's voice was a keening whine, a hectic painful gasping wail that pierced the air. It was despair. It was guilt. "We…were…mislead! Or we lied to ourselves? It doesn't matter how or why…we _must_ stop!"

Malak watched her grovel, pleading, begging. No longer _Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith_. A weakling and an obstacle to be removed before continuing onward.

"You are a flimsy shell of Revan. You are nothing to me, and I do not have time for—" A figure at the back of the bridge caught his attention, and Malak's jawless face still managed to effect a sneer. There in the doorway was Bastila Shan. He recognized the opportunity the Force had placed before him…and he laughed.

The mechanical laughter filled the comm system, followed quickly by, "All ships, recommence firing!"

Malak's face and laughter disappeared as Revan turned to see what had drawn his attention.

Someone stood silhouetted by the light of the corridor. As her eyes adjusted, Revan made out the face of a grown up version of Vrook's little padawan.

"Bas…Bastila?" She mumbled it, finding her tongue unwilling to form the words. She bit down on her lip, drawing blood, stumbling to her feet and clawing at the control panel for support as the intruder stepped closer. The girl was alone. "What do you want, Bastila? Has old man Vrook sent you?"

"Revan." Bastila took another step forward, her lightsaber casting a yellow pallor around the bridge.

Revan watched the steady beam, and then a wide grin split the parched, veined lips beneath her mask. _I can fix things. I don't _want_ to live anymore. Can't be allowed! Not now, now that I've seen…_ An idea was slowly finding purchase within Revan's cracked mind.

Instead, out loud, she said, "Are you supposed to bring me back to the Order? Save me? I think it's…It's too late, now. There's no light left to return me to, nothing to redeem! It might…it might be best if you just end it now. The Republic…I didn't know…Everything has been for them, Bastila, for the Republic, for its survival, but…but…we…" Her voice trailed to a whisper, words failing the Sith Lord. Her sharp, ragged breathing cut through the remaining silence in rattling fits.

Bastila took another step closer to Revan, who was still precariously leaned against the consoles, her vision focused on the brilliant beam of Bastila's lightsaber.

"No, Revan. I haven't been sent to save you. Nor to return you to the Order and the Light. I…" The girl took a deep steadying breath and glared at the slits where she supposed Revan's eyes were located. "I've been instructed to end your life, Serena Revan, former Knight Consular of the Jedi Order, Dark Lord of the Sith. To end your bloody march across the galaxy once and for all."

Of all of the reactions Revan could have expected, her own indignant gasp of surprise took her off-guard. Something wanted her to live, but she doubted it was a hidden spark of self-preservation. The velvety voice that had been a near constant companion through the years since Malachor V whispered in the dark. It spoke of survival and the Republic. Her precious, needy Republic.

The characteristic snap-hiss of two lightsabers igniting filled the space between Sith Lord and Padawan Jedi, and Revan was out of range before Bastila could react, attacking from behind, then left, then behind…never where Bastila perceived she _should_ be.

Revan shrugged off the girl's attempts at stasis fields, bringing her red and violet sabers down to meet Bastila's, beating her back into the control panels. Bastila spun beneath Revan's arm, flanking her just as Revan whirled to meet the slashing saber with her own.

The fight could have ended quickly as Revan was, by far, the better duelist. But she couldn't kill the girl whom she remembered as a hip-high child begging for more instruction in meditation. The last time she'd seen her, Bastila was the same age that the boy, Dustil, had been when she met _him_. Too young to die like that. So they continued, Bastila panting with the effort, Revan locked in internal battle as she dodged and parried.

_I should kill her and end it. There's a war to be won._ [spin-duck-slash-duck_ So much to do for…for them. I can't be delayed! I can't…_ [jump-slash-slash-slash _NO! I can't __**continue**__! I should let her hit me. It won't bring anyone back, but…maybe…_ [dodge-spin-duck-spin _It won't stop what I've started, but I can still--_

She never got to finish the thought. A bright blue lightsaber blocked her next advance. The abrupt halt knocked Revan back enough to see who had interfered--broad shoulders and tan skin, blond hair and…usually intense blue eyes that were now only flat and dark, not even reflecting the light of his two identical blue sabers.

Revan's feet wouldn't move. Her mind remained paralyzed by those eyes, swimming in disappointment mingling with guilt. Eyes that seemed to see right into her heart as effortlessly as they had seen through her childish techniques years before. Loren still shined with a blue light, much brighter than it had been that first time she'd seen it, and it held her enthralled until the last possible moment. With a quick feint and spin, Revan managed to dodge his attack and flicked her hand in the direction of her two Jedi opponents. A wave of Force power devastated the surrounding computer terminals and sent Bastila and Loren flying. Before they could recover, Revan was between them, flurried sabers finding every opening, barely blocked by the very man who taught her to wield the weapon.

_It's not him. Can't be him. It's no one. I don't know you. I don't know EITHER OF YOU!_

With a yell, she raised her sabers, ready to end the fight. Ready to remove the mocking expressions of sympathy from faces she knew too well. At the last, Loren turned and ducked, pulling Revan closer to him. Revan made eye contact even through the cloying mask. He smiled sadly and whispered, "Serena."

The word undid the Sith Lord where so many pleas for mercy had failed.

"Serena…"

"No! I'm…no!" Revan retreated up and around the ramp that led to the observation deck. Behind her, the viewport loomed large, battle carrying on without its commander. It didn't really matter, though. She was done being _Lord of the Sith_. Done with everything. As Bastila approached from the right, Loren from the left, Revan considered, again, throwing herself onto their sabers. Just failing to dodge. She couldn't go on with all she'd done, even when every fiber of her being chaffed at so much self-pity.

She tasted the heaving gasps even before they emerged and felt the instant she lost control, fully breaking down before her enemy.

_So, this…this is the way of the dark side?_

Bastila stared at the crumpling woman before her; the shape leaning against the rail was starting to tremble more visibly. Unable to stand the sight, she allowed herself a glance at the viewport, where an equally terrifying image caught her eye.

A ship, another Interdictor-class, was moving toward them, rapidly closing the distance and coming about. Mouth suddenly dry, Bastila couldn't seem to speak as she watched the plasma cannons realign.

Serena was mumbling something. And it _was_ Serena; he was sure the girl was still in there. Her breath coming in ragged gasps drowned out the words and Loren moved closer. Too close to the Sith Lord, really, but he had to know.

"Loren…Loren…I'm so…I'm…sorry…Loren…"

She wasn't poised to fight, just leaned against the rail, head hanging, sabers cradled loosely in hands that had lost all conviction.

But without warning, she suddenly turned on him so fast he didn't have time to react. Dropping the deactivated sabers and grabbing his robes, pulling Loren even closer, she hissed, "Do it! Kill me, please!" The desperation in her voice broke his heart. Serena was pragmatic, strong. The simpering thing before him wasn't at all like that and he jerked away.

She turned her attention toward the nearby padawan. "Bastila! End it before I do more damage; end it before I destroy it all!"

Forcing himself not to back further away, Loren tried, "Serena, just come with us. You can still—" He heard Revan and Bastila gasp simultaneously, mere moments before the first burst of plasma smashed into _Victorious_.

Revan wouldn't remember it later, but when she felt Malak's nearby presence on _Leviathan_, his intent as his ship moved into position, she'd accepted it fully. It was a fitting end, to be killed by her apprentice. The Sith way. She'd even turned at the last, facing her judgment with dignity. An image of Malak--the husband she'd lost, not the Sith—played behind her closed eyelids as the ship shook from the impact. The squeal of metal twisting, beams collapsing under the blows of _Leviathan_'s cannons filled the air, and made her wonder if this was what it had been like for Zana on _Courageous_ at Malachor V.

Dust and smoke overtook her, as her senses were flooded with sound and light, and Darth Revan collapsed on the deck of her flagship.

"_Please evacuate all personnel immediately. Escape vessels are located on each odd numbered level of this ship."_

Loren's first impression was of flashing lights and smutty, black fumes…of blaring sirens. Jumping to his feet caused the world to slide hard to the left and he crashed into the railing he and Revan had been leaned against minutes earlier. _Just minutes?_

"Mmmm…"

"Bastila!"

The padawan was kneeling off to the side, already scrambling to her knees, seemingly only stunned from the impact. Between the two lay an unmoving bundle of black robes. Loren was already stepping toward it even as his mind tried to make sense of what he was seeing: a sanguine pool was gathering beneath and around the shape of…

His knee collapsed as his foot made contact with the tiled floor, and on kneeling still some distance from his lifeless padawan, Master Kavar found himself begging the Force for the strength to heal her wounds, to bring her back. He was too drained to heal his own shattered kneecap beyond a basic patching-up, his reserves depleted in the battle to reach the bridge while managing not to set off any alerts.

In any case, it didn't seem to matter. Revan was dead. _There is no emotion._

Bastila dropped to the ground beside the body just as the ship rocked and groaned beneath them, internal explosions adding to the damage Malak's cannons were still sending their way. He obviously meant to destroy the ship completely. _There is peace._

"Bastila! Get the mask; the damned Senate needs its…proof. " _There is no ignorance._ "Then, we need to get the hell out of here! Not sure how long it'll hold together." _There is knowledge._

"Understood, Master."

He inched closer to Bastila, pulling himself up against the remaining section of rail and limping, keeping as much weight as possible off the injured knee. _There is no passion._

He watched as Bastila reached forward tentatively, drawing back Revan's hood, slipping the bloody mask away from her face. The movement was punctuated by another explosion somewhere deep within the ship.

Loren's mental calm wavered as the mask revealed the face of Serena Revan. Not the mottled, veined features seen on the holonews, but closer to the face he remembered so well, the influence of the dark side fading.

For a moment, neither moved. Then, Bastila placed her fingers on the woman's head wound and applied her limited healing knowledge, at least able to staunch the bleeding. When she looked back at Loren, his eyes were closed.

_There is serenity._ "Serena." The Jedi Master whispered her name, a reverent plea to the Force for assistance.

"Master Kavar…I…" Bastila again found herself at a loss for words. There, within the darkness that still covered much of Serena's mind, there was a spark! A light, the barest remnant of the Force and life. It was tucked into a deep corner, and Bastila followed it into Revan's mind. She bit back her questions as to how she had done so, focusing on the task at hand.

It lead her ever deeper and Bastila found she could see it, even if she closed her eyes. And she did close them. The horrors of Serena's mind, the screams and clawing hands, were too much for her to bear. But the light continued to shine for her, and when she finally felt she couldn't take the brightness any longer, Bastila opened her eyes.

Before her hovered a small star. _If it represents her life…_

The flesh of Bastila's palms was seared, crackling and blackened, as she held her hands on either side of the star. Again closing her eyes, she opened herself to the Force, allowed it to flow through her and into Serena, and her own energy reignited the dying light. Serena's life. When the girl was satisfied, she huffed through gritted teeth and pulled, bringing the star with her, out of the shadows at the back of Serena's mind. She pulled it past the screaming horrors and reaching nightmares of the wars and let it rest in the open. _It's up to you now._

With a steadying breath, she withdrew back to _Victorious_. Back to her own body.

"—stila?! Bastila!"

"I'm…here…Master Kavar."

He yelled, "Let's go!" and turned to leave, only to find she wasn't following.

"We can't leave her! Master, you haven't looked, _really_ looked, have you?" She balked at using the forceful tone against her elder, but Bastila's eyes fell on her own charred hands and she summoned her last shreds of will. "Serena's alive, and we cannot leave her to die."

She was right, of course. He hadn't looked except with his eyes. He'd carefully_ avoided_ seeing her through the Force. But now, there was no denying it as he watched the life flow through her. Disregarding his injury and hoping the patch-job would hold long enough, Loren set his jaw and hefted the unconscious woman over his shoulder. He used the Force to take her weight as much as he dared and nodded to Bastila, limping after her.

Stumbling through the corridors, aware of each twinge and twist of the knee that threatened to collapse again at any minute, they wound their way toward the shuttle waiting in a hangar on the same level. Bastila deflected most of the debris that showered down upon them as the ship died beneath Malak's assault, losing track of time as they ran. Suddenly they were standing in front of their ship. Loading it. Taking off.

Loren, former ace pilot of the Great Sith War, had never been so thankful for his flying experience, as when he began evasive maneuvers against the first fighters that gave pursuit.

**On-board **_**Levianthan**_

"Lord Malak, they're preparing to jump to hyperspace."

Malak glared at the officer, quite aware that his prey was escaping. Well, one of them. "Bastila will wait. Revan is dead, I can feel her presence no longer. And I…" His eyes showed that he was grinning in his way and the bridge fell quiet in anticipation of the statement that amused him so. "I am now Supreme Leader of the Sith!" The thick, mechanical laughter that filled the bridge was becoming far too common and leaving little doubt as to Malak's sanity. "I'll claim the little Jedi when we have conquered the galaxy and she has nowhere left to hide!" The manic edge to his voice did not go unnoticed by the crew, but they had learned their lesson before and would follow his orders without question. Revan had taught them well.

**Jedi Long Range Shuttle, bound for Coruscant**

_Master Kavar, we can't leave her._

Bastila's words played repeatedly through his head. Until that moment, he'd been ready to do it himself, if Bastila couldn't. To end Lord Revan.

_Who am I fooling? I couldn't have killed her. Even now, I see that five-year-old child when I look at her._ He stroked the smooth cheek of the girl resting at his feet.

The veining had faded completely hours ago and the pallor, while still present, was improving. The nasty gash on the back of her head had been bandaged, but Loren had over-extended his use of the Force during the battle toward the bridge and Bastila was no medic. Her battlefield healing would have to do until the wound could be examined by more skillful hands.

"Master, may I ask…is it not against the Code to be so attached to ones padawan?" He nearly laughed at the comment. However, he remembered she was paired with Vrook and…he and Zana might have been made an example.

"It would be impossible and inhuman for a master not to feel some attachment to his padawans. You may find it hard to believe, but even Master Vrook is not above care."

"You act as though you—" Her tone, indignant even as she struggled to remain respectful, did make him chuckle a bit and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"He was my master, too, Padawan Shan."

She seemed to let the thought sink in for a moment before a small smile emerged. It made Loren realize just how young she was…_only seventeen. The same age as Zana before she left._ He carefully ignored the twinge in his chest.

Settling back into his chair and angling his head so he could still watch the comatose woman, Loren felt himself start to drift off amidst the hum of the rear engines and the life support system.

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"Why did they fall?" Something hesitant in her voice caught his attention and Loren glanced over at the young girl.

"You know, Vrook would blow a gasket if I talked about that sort of thing with you." He turned back, trying to doze off.

"I know, but…but I need to understand, if you would tell me. I'd like to find the lesson in—"

"Lesson!? Already one of his droids, huh? There doesn't have to be a lesson in everything, Bastila. Sometimes, bad things just happen. Even to really good people." _There is no emotion._ Loren was finding himself reciting the Code more often since _Victorious_…and finding it less effective.

Bastila's features flexed with determination. "Master Kavar, I simply want to understand _why_. Why did they disobey the Council? Why did they become…become _evil_? Were they in love? Are you in love…with the Exile, Dex? I shouldn't be having such thoughts, but they keep returning, and I'm sure Master Vrook would…He would never answer them." She looked down at Serena and, in a quiet voice, added, "I don't believe he could."

Rubbing his temples and giving a derisive snort to express his own opinion on Vrook's likely reaction, Loren half-turned to face Bastila. "Yes. Yes, I believe they were really in love. Was it love that led them to the dark side? Perhaps. I believe there is something more to it, however. She was smart, too smart sometimes, and something isn't adding up."

"And…and Exile Dex?"

Loren closed his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning his head back against the wall. "Yes, it's true. I love her. Bastila, I want you to understand me: love is not evil. It doesn't lead Jedi to the dark side when moderated through the Code. Master Sunrider was married. She even had a child. And Vrook's wife was—"

"His wife?" The shocked whisper brought a bitter curl to Loren's lips.

"He hasn't told you about Illyna? The war? Nothing from that time?"

"No, nothing. And I'm not at liberty to ask."

"And yet, you felt no such prohibition in asking me?!"

"My master…is not quite so approachable, Master Kavar."

"Fair enough. We have a long shuttle ride ahead, so settle in. It's time you heard a little story."

For many hours, he spoke of his childhood, Illyna Kun, and the Great Sith War, until his throat was dry and ragged and they were only a few hours off Coruscant.

Those last hours, they decided to rest and the girl drifted off before Loren had even gotten comfortable. Guilt and exhaustion were starting to take their toll, but sleep would not find him. Instead, Loren's mind circled round one thought – "failure." He was delivering a second student to the Council. His failure wasn't in his duty as a Jedi Master, but in his duty to his student. And grasping at the edges of consciousness, this failure threatened to swallow him entirely.

As they drew near the temple, he gave up, instead stroking Serena's hair as he had when she was a child and memorizing her placid face.

----------------------------------------------------------------

**Master Loren Kavar's chambers, Coruscant, Jedi Temple**

He wasn't sure if it was the stillness or the quiet he noticed first. It wasn't as if it mattered. Loren stretched, popping his neck joints, curling his wrists, doing a full-body flex to dispel the stiffness of his muscles and mind.

"Gah!" His knee. Somehow, he'd injured his knee.

_Limping off of that ship. There was a battle. An explosion. I was limping out, following…Bastila and…carrying something heavy. There was debris…carrying someone…Serena!_

He jumped out of bed, wincing at the pain in his leg, but finding his balance. Throwing on his outer robe and boots, running fingers through his hair with little concern, Loren started for the door. _I must believe that we made it in time!_

His memories after their tripping sprint through _Victorious_ were a bit hazy. He didn't even know if she'd made it to Coruscant with them, much less safely to the medical wing. And yet, he limped as quickly as he could manage, through the usually meditative corridors of the temple, not daring to doubt for an instant.

He burst through the doors, ignoring the ministrations of various medical staff and zeroing-in on Serena's bed, on her catatonic body lying so very still. He pressed through the small crowd surrounding her and found himself brought up short by the full transformation. All physical evidence of her fall was simply _gone_.

Her words drifted back to him--_I'm sorry, Loren…do it, kill me…before I do more damage._—and he dropped to her bedside, clasping a cold, clammy hand in his own. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, Serena, wake up." It was a strangled whisper. A plea. Bastila's hand on his shoulder reminded him, _There are others present._ In his grief, he'd forgotten, hadn't cared.

The medics rushed around him, checking tubes and pumps, tanks and kolto drips. She was alive, but only just, and only because the machines kept her heart pumping, lungs filling with air. They murmured to themselves about her state, seeming to believe she'd just given up.

The head nurse approached, apprehensive, tense. "Master, what would you have us do? We have only a small window in which to act and—"

"Understood. Do it." Vrook's gruff words grated on Loren's nerves.

As the group backed away, someone placed heavy hands on his shoulders and yanked him roughly away from the woman's bedside. Jedi specializing in healing moved closer, resting their hands on her chest and head.

There was something _wrong_, though. That wasn't healing on which they were concentrating their efforts.

"What are they doing?" Loren flailed, searching for Vrook's face. "Vrook, what are they doing?!" He struggled harder and the two Jedi who were holding him increased their grip, bruising his shoulders.

"Clearing out Revan's personality, the part that remains, and inserting a new one. Something we can work with: loyalty to the Order, docility, putting a cap on her memory, in case it turns out to be a useful tool."

A medic approached, speaking in low tones. "Master Vrook, we need your party to vacate the room as we prepare Revan's body."

"Of course."

Loren could feel it building within him—anger. And for once, he didn't retreat into the Code. He didn't claw at the Jedi teachings. He accepted it, embraced his anger as he was dragged out of the ward. As soon as the doors closed and they were safely in the hall, his captors released him and Loren turned on Master Vrook.

"What? Revan's…Revan's _body_?! That's Serena! Look at her!" He flung a hand violently toward the small window in the door. "And when I carried her off of that ship, there was…there was life in her. She was alive and it was Serena!" He took a step toward his former master, fists balled and clenched.

"What is this, _Loren_?"

For the first time in years, Loren felt like a child under the gaze of his master. A petulant, misbehaving child. Something inside of him cringed even as he outwardly stood taller. "You can't just—"

"Yes, we can. And we will. She is Revan. If anything remains, she might be able to help us stop the events she set in motion. She is _not_ Serena any longer. And as soon as you get that through your dense skull, we can move on to—"

Loren took another step and his previous captors grabbed his arms, roughly twisting them behind his back. "Dammit, Lamar!"

Vrook narrowed his eyes, as if seeing the man before him for the first time. "Where did I go wrong, boy? Did I fail you as a teacher? What kind of _Jedi_ are you?"

"How can you be so inhumane?! So…so stoic? Ever since Illyna—" Vrook's face turned murderous. He stepped even closer to his former padawan, "—since she died, you've blocked everything and everyone from your life. You didn't fail _me_, Lamar. _You failed her._ By becoming _this_, by forgetting her. By—"

"Enough!" Master Vandar's presence swelled through the Force, stilling Kavar's yelling and Vrook's impending counterstrike. "Master Kavar, it is, I believe, in everyone's best interest if you would leave the ward. While I am unhappy with this turn of events, I understand that this confrontation has been building for some time. Coupled with your history with the girl and the Exile, I strongly suggest you remain uninvolved in this case and return to Dantooine immediately."

Loren tried to focus, tried to swallow the anger and force it away in lieu of peace.

In a kinder voice, Master Vandar addressed him again, pleading, "Kavar, please go. Your involvement seems unwise. If you cannot control these emotions, then you are too close to this and it is neither healthful nor helpful. At such a crucial time…"

Loren's barely perceptible nod was returned by the small master, and he took a step toward his chambers, away from the ward. With last minute recognition, he saw Vrook's fist arcing up to meet him. He was suddenly nineteen again and his master was having another breakdown. It was the first time his master ever struck out at his student, and it was the last time Loren had ever claimed to be Vrook's padawan.

Thankfully, sweet oblivion embraced him before the pain made it past his nerve endings and he sank into willing unconsciousness.

He wasn't sure if it was the stillness or the quiet he noticed first. With a stretch, Loren sat up. Too quickly. Along with the rush of pain to his head came the rush of memories.

Closing his eyes and applying healing to his pounding head stopped the physical ache, but it didn't come close to touching the mental unrest that threatened to undo him. Flopping back into bed, he stared at the gray tiled stone of the ceiling, its small imperfections forming hidden images and shapes. It called to mind the last time he'd lain in bed in the temple, staring at the ceiling for guidance. Only it had been Zana's ceiling, and it was the last time he'd seen her before delivering her to Vrook and the Council.

_Delivering her to the Council…?_

She was _his_.

_They may have Serena, but Zana…_

It was time to do something he knew he should have done ages before.

Without a word—no note, no holo—Loren gathered his meager belongings, reloaded the shuttle, and pulled out of the temple dock. He met no resistance, doubted anyone would even notice he was missing for a few more hours.

He had to find her. _It's where I belong, now, I'm sure._

Vaguely, Loren wondered if Jolee had found it as easy when he left that last time.

Before exiting orbit, he did contact one person using an old code he'd found in the archives some years before. Lucien Draay, the twisted Master Jedi responsible for the Padawan Massacre on Taris, had once had a contact. An operative, of sorts, but someone in whom he expected he could trust the sort of task he had in mind. Dropping the shuttle onto the roof of one of the seedy lower level hotels, he asked the Force for one last favor: _Bring him here._

As he entered the landing cycle, Yagr could not help remembering all the reasons why he hated coming to Coruscant. Everything was just petty. The population worried about such petty, little things. He loved the Rim. Life was rugged and unpredictable. Of course, what could be more unpredictable than mysterious messages from mysterious people using a mysterious code known only to three people, but not used by one of those three in this instance. _Strange._

[static "_Reverence_ two-niner-eight... you are cleared to the northeast entry portal... two-eight-four mark six-six."

"Roger, Orbital, Yagr out..."

"I hate this place," he mumbled to no one.

His ship slid into a familiar docking slot at the Rimland Hotel and Resort complex, his favorite stay. And as was his custom, he glanced out the open hangar door to see the Temple off in the distance.

_How far do the paths of life stray from what we expect…_

He went about his normal trend, checking into the room that he preferred and settling in for a bit of relaxation, not knowing at all who was supposed to be meeting him or where. He assumed that since they knew how to contact him and had Draay's code, they would have no problem making the rendezvous.

_Return to Core, normal accom, important meet._

"Story of my life..." Yagr spoke to no one yet again as he slid into a fresh set of clothes. He certainly did not expect an answer.

The voice was low and casual. "Cryptic messages don't concern you?"

Yagr reacted with his customary martial quickness, spinning on his heels as he vaulted to the side, bringing out a throwing dagger ready to respond to the threat. In an overstuffed easy chair in the shadowy corner across the room sat a cloaked figure. Yagr was certain that the room had been empty when he'd done his check; that was protocol on his part.

"Nerf-humping Jedi...sneakin' around my room...hiding in your little Force bubble. Who the pulsar do you think you are using our cipher to bring me in? You chopping my chain?" Fury dripped from every word he spat out.

The Jedi remained motionless except for a wave of his fingers from their resting place on the arm of the chair. "Be at peace, warrior. I am no threat to you."

"Knock off that prissy hand-wavin', you piece of worm-ridden filth. I don't do Jedi work. I don't hang around Jedi. I don't talk with Jedi, anymore."

"Easy, Yagr. Honestly, I am not here as a Jedi. But you are my only hope to connect with something dear that I have lost."

The stranger stood and stepped into the light. Immediately, Yagr rose from his defensive crouch with a sense of awe and relief. He did not recognize the worn and grizzled voice, but the face and presence of the man was unmistakable. "You…" Yagr took in the plain clothes beneath his companion's cloak. Certainly not the typical Jedi robes. "You've left the Order?"

"I have..."

"Then, why are we here? I only take orders from one man."

"Draay is...gone."

"What do you mean? Where are Lucien and Krynda?"

"_Gone._"

"Dead?"

"Gone...that's all I know." The former Jedi Master stepped closer to Yagr and pulled out a holopad. It bore the image of a young woman that looked vaguely familiar. "Do you know her?"

"Maybe. I think I bumped into her a time or two. Can't remember where. What does this have to do with the Draays?"

"Nothing. I don't know where they are. No one knows where they are. With their wealth, they could be anywhere. If your handler has not contacted you in some time, then I would assume you are on your own for a bit."

"Then, how did you..."

"I am not the most...righteous Jedi, of late. If you are asking how I got your contact cipher, seems _someone_ kept the information locked up in a forbidden area of the archives. I picked it up a few years ago. Kept it just in case I needed it and, well..." The man shifted uncomfortably and genuine anxiety passed through his blue eyes.

Yagr raised an inquisitive brow. "Okay, what about this woman? She Jedi?"

"Not anymore."

"Hmm…lot of that going around lately. Do you want me to find her or contact her, what?"

"You are the Eye of the Shadow. I know who you _were_, Od—"

"Don't," he muttered in warning. The Jedi held up his hands in acquiescence.

"I know what you do _now_. Can you...look after her? Tail her and let me know where she is, what she's doing?"

"You want me to babysit a former Jedi for you? Isn't she a big girl now? And what do you care?"

"It's...personal." Again, the anxiety passed over the man's face before blending back into his trained Jedi façade. Yagr understood what that meant. "I plan to join her soon, after some other business is taken care of."

"You're going home first, huh?" The Jedi nodded. "Is that wise?"

The Jedi shrugged. "You would know better than I the state of affairs in that part of the galaxy. Unfortunately, the situation necessitates the delay."

"Will they let you leave once you've landed?"

The other man's expression turned dark. "I'd like to see them try and stop me."

Yagr nodded. "And what is my role?"

"Keep tabs on her until I can make it to her location."

"I read you, but..."

"I know what your protocol is. If no contact is made, you are to return to Taris and wait. Is that what you want? Will that make you feel better? You've been on that leash for so long, do you even know what it's like to follow your own orders?"

Yagr leaned in close to the Jedi Master. "Listen, I don't care that you were _her_ master; I don't care _what_ you were the master of before you left. Unlike yourself, I know what my purpose is and I haven't abandoned anyone lately. I understand things like loyalty and honor, unlike the people over there." He gestured towards the temple.

"Then help me, please. At least give me…a year. If I haven't gotten in touch by then, you're free to drop the trail. Just give me that year?" For a third time, the strain of anxiety surfaced, except the man's face held it, took on its extra creases and lines, evidence of his struggle etched across his features.

"I will stop by a couple of places on my way out to the Rim. If I bump into your girl, I'll send a note back down the pipe. I assume you can retrieve as well as send?" The eyes of the weapons master lit up with the hope of finding an ally. "This concludes any need for me to remain on Coruscant?"

Dropping all pretense, Loren looked at the floor, unwilling to encroach on the man's reaction to the words he was about to say. Just above a whisper, he muttered, "You tell me, 'Yagr.' She's there, you know. Can you feel it? Me, neither. The old man was planning to cut her off." He knew the other would understand that he meant Serena, and that he meant Vrook.

Yagr didn't move. Didn't react at all.

Loren considered that he might have been wrong, nodded, and strode out of the room without another word. The Eye of the Shadow turned toward the window, watching the urban landscape and staring at the temple in the distance.

Reverence bolted from orbit shortly after local dawn and took up a heading for the Rim.

Climbing the ramp to his shuttle, Loren didn't know what he should be feeling. _Relief? Maybe._ As long as he kept his mind focused far away from the temple. The Jedi. Serena.

He entered the coordinates for Onderon, cleared the atmosphere and traffic lanes of Coruscant, and jumped to hyperspace. Watching the lines of blue streak past, he remembered that neither of them had liked space travel. He hoped this was the last journey he would make before the final flight to the Outer Rim and Zana.

With a sigh, Loren set the ship to _auto_ and climbed into the lone bunk to grab some sleep. Better to be rested before arriving at Iziz. _No telling how _that_ will go._

----------------------------------------------------------------

**Two weeks later, Port of Iziz, Onderon**

She waited.

Watching the small ship, its boarding ramp already lowered, it seemed a lifetime before the figure of a man appeared in the exit. _A Jedi._ It was her first time seeing one.

His robes were dark brown and loose, tied off with a belt at the waist, though plain clothes were visible beneath. At his hip hung a metal tube, and around the belt she saw other sundry tools. His boots counted the cadence of their step, drowning out her own smaller thongs as she met him halfway.

He wore the face of her grandfather, a near copy though many years younger, and he moved slowly but regally, at once naturally falling into step beside her.

When she greeted him, it was stilted and formal. However, she leaned up on tip-toe and hugged him, a cheer ringing out through the gathered crowd, and she whispered into his ear, "Not safe." Dropping away, she took his offered arm.

At the palace, she would explain everything. Her mother's failing grip on reality, her father's untimely death. Their cousin's bid for power.

The pair passed banners and signs heralding the return of the Prince of Onderon, but neither paid them much heed.

She hadn't questioned his arrival. Talia knew him from the stories her mother had told of her heroic little brother who battled the Sith in the first Great War, securing freedom for Onderon and the galaxy. The siblings had exchanged letters for years and she felt like she understood the man even as she met him for the first time in her life.

With every fiber of her being, Talia thanked the gods for bringing him back to his family in such turbulent times.

"Uncle…"

"Please, Loren will do."

"Loren, then. We need to talk. Are you free this afternoon?" He smiled, and though it was melancholy, it reminded her of her mother's, long lost. Talia returned it, squeezing the arm she held. "You remind me of her, my mother; and grandfather, as well." Small talk, just until they reached the safety of the palace. The streets of Iziz were full of ears awaiting the latest bit of gossip.

"I should. Though I expect she's aged a bit more than I have. We're twins, you know."

"Twins? She never said…"

"Really? She was the first born, and somehow without enough resonance in the Force to become a Jedi, so here we are. We did what we were meant to do, I suppose. I have…I have few regrets."

Again she detected the melancholy just beneath the surface. "Don't worry, Uncle…Loren…we'll find plenty of things to keep you occupied, and you shall forget those regrets soon enough."

"No, you see I'm not stay—"

"Shh. We'll talk more once we're home."

_Home._ The man's eyes brightened at the word. Talia turned her gaze back to the road they walked amongst their armed escort. Without doubt, she could see that involving him in family affairs would be the cure for what ailed him. And without doubt, there were many things in which his assistance would be most useful.

As they entered the residence wing of the palace, Talia dropped the façade and paused mid-step. "Loren, before we go up to see my mother, there are some things you need to know."

It had been a long period of instability for Onderon, and the peace in Iziz was tentative at best. Days after his arrival, her Jedi uncle was hip deep in family problems and court intrigue and his melancholy seemed to lift as she knew it would.

Loren often found himself wondering how he'd come to be so intertwined in his family's affairs. Indeed, finding Zana seemed to rest beneath the pile of mounting debt, civil unrest, national security, impending war, and the queen's approaching death.

While he thought of her often, it seemed impossible to get away, and eventually, he was forced to accept two things. First, his year had run out. He hadn't contacted Yagr, and she was probably lost to him. Second, it was a fact of Loren's life that duty and honor would always trump his feelings. It was as if the universe was playing a joke on him, only Loren Kavar wasn't laughing. Instead, he was growing bitter and tired, and no longer fought the apathy settling into his mind.

Many years would pass before he next left Onderon, and only then at the request of his precious Exile. Though, by that time, her exile would have ended. And she would no longer be his.

It was but one regret among many.

_- end -_

_ckb_

This isn't the final chapter. However, it's the end of the story proper. The last two chapters will focus on post-betrayal Serena. Thanks for getting this far. Reviews are lovely but not required. I'm just happy it's being read. ckb


	25. Part 21

**A/N: **Thanks to VengaFett and TascaLumina, both on dA and KotorFanMedia, for the excellent beta-reading ever since Part 9! Also, having trouble with my separators (as are many people), so the "oOo0oOo" will have to suffice for now. ; Sorry!

oOo0oOo

**The Reconstructed Memories of Serena Kae  
_(previously known as Serena Revan)_**

"This is no place for a child."

His hands were gentle, and his eyes, the color of the sky, won her over immediately.

So trusting.

_He took me away from my parents' home at five-years-old. Our home, with the stench of decay flooding down from the upper rooms, the flies, the silence. The things that had somehow come to mean "home" in the two weeks I'd been alone._

Utterly alone.

The man, Loren, took me to an orphanage where I received food, shelter, and clothing. Most everything a child should need.

When I was sixteen, I left the orphanage, the beatings, and the groping, fumbling hands of my peers. I struck out on my own and ended up on Tatooine, won a ship in a swoop race, and fell into the service of the Hutts as a runner.

Six years later, I found myself abandoned by a mutinous crew, left behind on a job with **too many risks and too little reward**—the crew's words. I was too impetuous, I suppose. Okay, headstrong, and, yeah, I knew it.

My luck finally ran out.

The job, as it turned out, had included stealing from the Jedi enclave on Mustafar. It was the Jedi who imprisoned and questioned me. In a rare moment of conscience—**more likely, self-preservation**—I told them everything and then some. I was truly astonished at my own honesty and, even more so, at the sudden turn of events, as I abruptly found herself signing on to work for them. **The Jedi!**

I was amassing a fortune doing their odd jobs, mostly spying and espionage. The war was going badly for them and it seemed even the upright pillars of morality weren't above such pedestrian methods.

On that final mission—the last I can remember, at least—something had felt decidedly **off**. I was behind enemy lines, an operative on one of the Sith ships. The details still won't come to me.

There was an explosion, and then…nothing.

oOo0oOo  
  
**Jedi**** Temple****, Coruscant**

Serena Kae awoke in a hospital room much like every other. A little nicer perhaps, but still obviously institutional. The windows were blocked by heavy drapes, but a slender bar of light managed to peek through, falling on the form of a young girl snoozing in a chair. Her body was folded in on itself, and there was no way she could be comfortable.

Also, there was someone—

"Serena…child?"

"Ah…I…" Her throat protested the unfamiliar feeing of speech.

"No. Do not speak."

The girl in the chair rubbed her eyes and sat up, making a sour face at the stiffness of her body. When her eyes met Serena's, they lit up, and she hopped somewhat clumsily from her seat. "Serena."

"Eh…"

"Please, Bastila, calm yourself."

"Yes, Master Vandar."

Serena's mind latched onto the name. _Bastila._ And the other person, a small, very tired looking alien. _Vandar. Jedi._

Slowly, the haze about her mind began to lift.

She was in the Jedi hospital wing, not for the first time. The girl, Bastila, she knew her in passing. And Vandar, he gave her assignments. Yes, now she remembered.

"You have been injured. A head wound. If you find it difficult to remember…" Serena nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck. "Fear not; it is as expected."

She opened her mouth to speak, but, still, words eluded her.

"Your voice will return with time." He paused and motioned to Bastila. "Padawan, fetch water and the nurse, please."

"Yes, Master." The girl scurried from the room with a small bow.

When they were alone, Vandar continued, "Can you remember _anything_ about your last mission?" She shook her head _no_. "Very well. Bastila has been assigned to assist in your recovery, along with your nurse. They will guide you through rehabilitation and retraining."

At her inquisitive look, he smiled a bit sadly. "Your body has lain disused for two months. Along with your mind, it will need to be retrained to your former level of activity. Of course, you shall have access to our best facilities. For now, please rest. When they return, I am sure he will want to get started as soon as you are ready."

Before she could ask who this _he_ was, the Master Jedi was gone, leaving Serena alone with her thoughts. Watching the door for any sign of the girl and her water, Serena huffed a sigh, at once tired and frustrated. She needed to be training, not reclining, waiting for—

"Serena! Are you alright?" Bastila rushed to her side.

Serena's eyes flew open. She hadn't realized she had drifted off.

"Your nose is bleeding. Just a second."

She became acutely aware of the trickle of blood on her upper lip just before the blond who had entered behind Bastila wiped it gently away with a cloth.

"My name is Mical. I have been your caretaker since your admission to this facility, though I believe this is your first lucid moment." His smile set her at once at ease. He carried calmness like a mantle, and the warmth of it spread to those around him also with the practiced ease of a medic. Something about him screamed Jedi, though he hadn't indicated that he was.

Serena offered him a weak smile of thanks before again closing her eyes.

"Bastila, I believe she may need another day to relax before rehabilitation can begin. I would like to bring her some books from the library. Is this permissible?"

"I shall inquire, of course."

After a few silent moments, Serena listened to two sets of feet walk away and the door slide shut behind them.

She sat in quiet boredom, wondering what she should do next. What _could_ she do? And then, Serena felt herself drifting back to sleep and accepted its blackness gladly.

oOo0oOo

When she awoke again, it was clearly dark outside. She glanced around the room, confirming that she was, indeed, alone, then noticed a stack of books on the low table beside the bed: _A Brief History of Human Galactic Colonization_, _Comparative Mythology of Interplanetary Belief Systems_, _A Year of Swoop Bike Racing Statistics_, _Native Languages of the Inner Core_, _Revisiting the Twi'lek Plight_. Randomly, she chose the book on languages, assuming she could probably bore herself back to sleep.

Three hours later, Serena found she knew more about native Corellian than she had ever wanted to know, but she couldn't put it down. By the time Bastila returned, the sun was again breaking through the curtains and Serena had finished the book. In a gravelly voice she didn't recognize, she greeted Bastila with "Khasaan'I."

Smiling, the girl returned the greeting in Basic, and then sat beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"

In the same rough voice, Serena deadpanned, "Great."

"Oh, I see your sense of humor has returned, as well? Mical wants to work with you today—but first, he asked me to get you into the refresher." Wrinkling her nose and holding out a hand, she added, "No offense. When you're ready…"

With an enormous effort on both their parts, the young women managed to help Serena's disused body out of bed and into the refresher. As Serena washed, Bastila talked. Serena learned that the girl had been visiting daily since the accident, stimulating neglected muscles and lessening the effects of atrophy. Even still, when the shower was over, Serena found herself grateful to fall back into bed.

And then Mical entered and shattered any illusions she might have had of getting some kind of rest.

"Come, now, Serena! Your body needs this. I promise to go easy on your first day." His previously warming smile was only infuriating now, and the cheerfulness caused her temper to prickle with annoyance.

With a huff, she rolled out of bed and followed him, haltingly, down the corridor.

_oOo0oOo_

For three months, Mical frustrated her every attempt to sleep late, to slowly eat her breakfast, to dawdle, anything to delay the painful therapy for as long as possible.

Eventually Serena found her muscles were no longer stiff when she awoke. They no longer burned and screamed as she sat up in response to his dawn wakeups. In fact, she began to relish the early morning jog, the murderous calisthenics, the mind numbing meditations in impossible positions…

"That's enough for today."

"What? No way! I can still do twenty more, see?" She started her fourth round of sit-ups. Mical placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Bastila will be pleased to know you are ready."

Serena scrambled to her feet and peered at him, both hands on her hips. "Ready?"

"To continue your training."

He started walking away and, as if on cue, the younger girl stepped into the fitness room.

"Is she really? That is excellent news."

Serena arched a brow at the pair, both smiling mischievously.

"Serena," Bastila began brightly, "today we shall start to retrain your reflexes."

It took a moment for Serena's mind to catch-up. "Weapon's training?" A smart nod from Bastila had her by the Jedi's side in three steps. "What? Blasters? Swords? I'm ready; let's go!"

With an indulgent noise, Bastila led her charge through the spartan halls of the Jedi temple and into a dark, empty training room. Touching the lighting panel, Serena gasped at the sparring dummies, the gray mats on the floor, and the array of weaponry lining the walls. The room spoke to her in a primal way, beyond practice and training. It was like returning to port after a long voyage. It was like coming home.

Without prompting, she chose a practice blade and strode onto the mat.

"Serena!" She ignored the urgent near-panic in Bastila's voice. "Wait! You won't be training with blades. Blasters are—"

"Why?" Serena took a few practice swings and shivered at the euphoric feeling the movement sent flashing through her body.

"Well, you don't actually remember ever using a blade, do you?" The girl's worried fidgeting didn't pass Serena's notice, though Bastila was trying to hide it. In their time together, she had come to understand the many subtle nuances hidden within the girl's posture.

Strangely, in that seemingly innocuous moment, Bastila appeared to be thoroughly alarmed.

With a sigh directed unquestionably at her friend, Serena lowered the weapon and thought about the odd remark. No, come to think of it, she didn't recall ever using a sword before. Still, she couldn't deny the innate feel of the blade in her hand.

"Bastila, I want to try it. I just…let me try?" Bastila looked toward the empty doorway. She glanced back at Serena, and then her gaze flitted back to the doorway again. She bit her lip and quirked a brow up in anxious indecision. It wasn't something Serena was accustomed to seeing in any of Bastila's expressions, and it didn't suit her well. The thought of the righteous young Jedi actually considering breaking the rules, however, was what pressed her forward. "Hey, look, can it hurt to diversify a bit?" Serena flashed what she was beginning to learn was a very persuasive smile. "If I'm too terribly bad, we can just switch to blasters, okay?" She took another practice swing. It really felt as natural as walking, talking…breathing, and before she had long to contemplate, a second blade slammed into her own.

"Very well, Serena. But you should know that I do not approve, nor would Masters Vandar and Vrook."

"I'll take the blame, okay? Besides, I don't think Vrook likes me very much, anyway." She blocked Bastila's blade with a deft move and spun, only to be blocked, herself.

"Perhaps…it is your…insistence on addressing him so…casually?" She parried only to find Serena's sword meeting her own.

"Damn! I'm not bad, though, am I? Or are you just really horrible?" Bastila laughed and Serena stopped mid-swing, jumping back to dodge a well-placed slash of the blunt tip. "What's so funny?"

"No. Indeed, Serena, it appears you are…a natural." Bastila hesitated over the last word, but Serena didn't pay it any attention as she was already preparing to attack again.

They continued for over an hour—thrusting, spinning, dodging—finding a rhythm, both thoroughly enjoying the challenge.

It was only afterward, when Serena hovered on the edge of sleep, that she wondered how she'd known. She couldn't remember ever touching a sword in her life, and yet, it was as if her body _had_ remembered.

Sleep came to her before she had time to ponder further.

_oOo0oOo_

Pulling ahead of the two Jedi, Serena taunted, "You guys are sloooow!" She sped off down the track, past windows that opened onto the sprawling city without, past the training machines with a wave to some of the regulars she'd come to recognize, past the viewscreens spouting a constant news feed. She caught up with Mical and Bastila on her second circuit, a sense of pride swelling in her chest as she recalled her progress. Seven months ago, she had needed help crawling out of bed. Now she had more stamina then either of her trainers.

"Don't overdo it, Serena!" Mical called after her, but she was already speeding out of earshot. She waved again as she passed the other exercisers and came back around to the monitors.

A man—**_Is_**_ it a man?_—leered at her from the screen. His piercing gaze caught and held her, freezing her feet in place. Serena felt a shiver roll through her body and hands balled unbidden into tight fists. If the commentator was speaking, she couldn't hear it. The room behind her fell away, and it was only herself and the man on the screen before her. His disfigured face—half-human, half-metal—set every nerve on edge and instinct told her to run, to get away. But her feet remained planted to the track. She was falling, sinking, trapped, drowning—

The screen abruptly went blank, but for a moment longer those eyes remained, strangely brimming and empty at once. Angry. Flashing with madness.

"Serena, are you okay? Here, it is bleeding again." The nosebleeds had continued through her training. She hadn't even noticed the thick trickle this time.

Turning her gaze on Bastila, she smeared the bloody trail across the back of her hand and demanded, "Who was he?!"

Bastila looked away, then shrugged. "Who?"

"Dammit, Bastila, you _know_ who! The man on the viewscreen! Who _was_ he?" She knew she was raving and must sound delirious, but she needed to know. Anything to allay the sting behind her eyes and the racing of her heart.

Mical strolled up beside Bastila. "Darth Malak, commander of the Sith armies." Serena wondered at the sharp look he received from Bastila for his candid disclosure. He continued, undeterred, "You were on one of his ships when you were injured."

"Oh." It made sense. He _would_ trigger negative feelings if that were the case. "He…he's so cold."

"Yes. That is probably an apt description. Are you well enough to continue?"

"No, I…I think I'll read now." Softening her expression by force, Serena tried a smile. _Bas_, did you get me that book on Rim languages?" Bastila hated the nickname. The sour look on the girl's face was priceless and lightened Serena's mood considerably.

"Yes, it is in your room, Serena. Please don't call me—"

"Fine. _Bastila,_ care to go for a coffee later? I found a new place with Alderaanian choklat…"

The girl Jedi relented just a bit and smiled. "Of course."

With a nod, Serena left the two and made her way back to her room. The books would be cold comfort—but an outing with Bastila, easily labeled as her best friend insofar as the Jedi would allow such a thing—gave her something to which she could look forward. Their conversations were always rewarding, and Serena hoped to learn more of the disturbing man, though she doubted Bastila would readily volunteer the information.

Rummaging around the room, she was pleased to find the Rim language book stacked along with another tome on fragile yellow pages entitled _Ancient Languages of the Galaxy_. Serena "hmph'd" to herself, curling up on the bed with a stiff, crinkled paper book. It smelled of dust and age and what she imagined were hundreds of hands and fingers passing over its brittle surface in years past. The pages spoke volumes in their stains and creases, and Serena took it all in with a gentle smile.

Bastila was a very good friend, indeed.

_oOo0oOo_

**Jedi Council Chambers, Coruscant**

It was after one year, nearly to the day, that Mical declared Serena rehabilitated and ready to return to active duty. They celebrated with a nice dinner of exotic fare and called it an early night; apparently, the Council wished to speak with their fully mended recruit in the morning.

As she entered the hall and stood before the Jedi Council, Serena couldn't help but notice a few were missing. Vima, Solan, and Vash seemed to be off on various missions. It left six stoic masters sitting before her, staring, silent.

_Calculating. Plotting?_ She couldn't help but be wary. Jedi, Sith; two sides of the same /- pazaak card. They were always hiding things from her, even now. Serena had caught glimpses of it during her training, and she hoped, finally, that she would be included in the big secret—whatever it might be.

Her hopes fell when Bastila entered the hall to stand beside her.

"Padawan Shan, Operative Kae, welcome. We have been informed of your full recovery, operative. Congratulations are in order." Serena nearly smirked at Master Vrook. There was no warmth in his words. They were empty and detached. Somehow, she was reminded of the face she had seen some months earlier on the viewscreen. It, too, had radiated an emptiness that shook her to her core.

"You are both to be commended," Master Vandar broke in, "However, the war continues. If you are ready, we have prepared a mission. Your task is to accompany Bastila as her bodyguard. You will take a place amongst the crew of the _Endar Spire_ and escort Bastila to and from various negotiation proceedings. Understood?"

"If I may ask, where _is_ our final destination?"

"No, you may not. That is highly classified information. For the most part, you will remain in hyperspace until Padawan Shan's talents are needed." Serena wondered at the word choice. Negotiation didn't seem to be a talent Bastila should possess.

Vrook spoke up, his ever-present scowl deepening. "Padawan Shan, you know your part in this?"

"Yes, Master. I have already been briefed."

"I _haven't_, and I'd like to know what—"

"Operative Kae, if you please…The details are not for you to know. It is a standard escort mission, that is all. Until you reach your destination, you will blend in with the _Endar Spire_ crew. There are concerns that a heavy escort will alert our enemies. You are _not_ to bring attention to yourself. Do you understand?"

Of course, she understood. It didn't mean she had to like it. Something felt wrong about this mission, about everything, but Serena's mind refused to cooperate and sort out the problem.

Her eyes traced a black mark on the center stone, an odd round hole drilled into the small monument. The edges were smoothed and charred as if melted. She tried to remember seeing it before, as she'd been in the room often enough for briefings in the past.

Feeling another headache approaching as she examined the wound in the rock and thinking she'd likely waited long enough to effectively make her disdain known, she directed a curt nod at the masters and muttered, "Yes, I do."

Vrook glared at her. "Then, you are dismissed, _operative_. Meet Padawan Shan at the main hangar in six hours."

With a shallow bow, Serena turned on her heel and left the room, relieved to be moving away from the Jedi. They always seemed to see through her, to her very soul, and as Bastila had demonstrated regularly over the last year, it was quite possible they did.

_Creepy._

_oOo0oOo_

**_Endar Spire_, Republic Capital Ship**  
Aboard the _Endar Spire_, Serena tried _everything_ not to be separated from her friend. She argued, whined, smiled, charmed. Nothing would change the arrangements and, finally, she stalked to her assigned room, smashed a hand into the opening mechanism, and stormed into the foyer.

"What the hell?! Who are _you_?"

A tall, blond man stood before her. He was grinning, a gesture decidedly at odd with his square jaw and military haircut. "Welcome. May I call you 'Serena?' _Ensign Kae_ seems so formal."

She was thrown for a moment before remembering her cover story that she was a transfer from another Republic ship. Taking control of her own expression, she stood up straight and tried not to look threatening. "Who…are…you? I wasn't told I would have a roommate—particularly a _male_ roommate."

Something flashed behind the man's eyes, but if anything, his grin brightened. "My apologies. I'm Trask, Trask Ulgo. I thought they would have mentioned it."

Scowling, Serena crossed the room to drop her belongings beside the empty bunk. "No. No mention of any grinning fools, sorry."

When she turned back to him, the grin was still plastered across his face. "Oh, come on. I'm told this smile can melt even the coldest heart. Must be loosin' my touch."

_What the…?_ "You're…odd."

"Heh, makes two of us. Welcome to 2812. Make yourself at home."

"O…kay…" The man's smile _was_ kind of nice, but something bugged her about him. He seemed almost _too_ nice.

"Grub's in a few hours. Better get you a shower if you want, 'cause you're up for guard duty after that."

"Um, thanks." She threw a glance at the room—_closet_—that apparently held the refresher. "It's…"

"Oh, don't worry. Why do you think they stuck a woman in my room?" He arched a brow watching the realization sink in. "I won't peek, promise." He saluted sloppily in a way that somehow put her mind at ease. With a glance over her shoulder, Serena slid into the smaller room, and the door closed behind her.

The warm water was just what she needed, washing away the hours of travel and tension. When she emerged in her towel, Trask looked away until she'd managed to don her new uniform.

When he turned back around, the look he gave her was neutral. "Looks good. Like a regular soldier, even."

She started at that. _He…_

"Yeah. Don't worry, I'm the only one who knows _why_ you're really here." He clapped her on the back and winked. "Let's get some dinner before shift, okay?"

Trask, as it turned out, was an excellent roommate. In time, they came to nurture a mutual deep-seated respect for one another. In the course of daily life aboard the _Endar Spire_, Serena would even have ventured to say he had become an excellent friend, as well.

Still, she missed Bastila, whom she rarely encountered onboard. Her even rarer visits to the Jedi quarters were discouraged, nearly forbidden, and she had been advised that they should not be seen together. Serena was a professional. She mostly obeyed.

"Trask, you gone yet?"

"No, I'm just on my way out." He wandered into the room wearing one boot and carrying the other. "You look gorgeous! When I get off my shift, should I knock before entering?"

She watched him struggle into his boot and frowned slightly. "You know I don't bring men here." After a pause, she added, "You might try to steal them, after all."

He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she forced a laugh and then a smile, poking him in the arm. "I'll be back before your shift ends, Trask. If not, come looking." It was his rule, established not long after her arrival. On a ship full of hormonal young men and women, Trask had insisted on _protecting her_. Disregarding, of course, the fact that she could certainly protect herself.

"Fair enough. Have a good time." The door slid closed behind him with a slow _whoosh_.

As she watched her reflection wearing the black sleeveless _nothing_ Trask had called "gorgeous," Serena smiled a genuine smile. _It has been forever, and it's not like Trask is of any use in that department, either._ He might not be her type, but in her current mood, Serena certainly _wished_ he preferred women.

Sighing and making a final check in the mirror, she brushed a hand through her wavy, black hair and decided, "Enough preening. Time to go." She crossed her fingers against meeting Bastila while striding down the long corridor to the cantina. When it came to leisure, in particular, Bastila could be too Jedi for her own good.

It was smoky in the cantina. The din of second- and third-shifters rumbled at a dull roar, and everyone was drunk. _Falling on their asses drunk_, she sighed. Sidling up to the bar, she ordered water. Drunk wasn't her goal; it never was.

She was sipping on her drink when she caught him watching her from two seats down. He was some Republic big-shot, no doubt. _A good-looking Republic big-shot. Still, another guy who isn't my type_. Honestly, Serena had yet to find "her type" and, contrary to what Trask thought, she never went with any of the men she met in the cantina. They just weren't the one she was looking for. The hole in her heart, in her memories, well…_they're just never the right one_. The Jedi said her memories would return in time, but this one was persistent in staying lost.

Republic-big-shot scooted down two seats, sliding his own drink closer. "Hello, there."

She gave him a warm, yet decidedly uninviting smile. "Hi."

"Could I ask, is that water you're drinking? _Plain water_?"

"Plain water."

He grinned at her. "Would you believe you're the only other person in here who isn't drunk? I don't know why I come down here, really."

"I was just starting to wonder the same thing. I'm Serena, by the way, Serena Kae."

"Carth Onasi. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You mean—" She pulled his flight jacket toward her, examining his badges. "—_Commander_ Carth Onasi. That puts you in charge around here, doesn't it?" She couldn't tell, but she thought he might have blushed in the dim light. He certainly didn't say anything, so she kept talking. "I'm with Bastila's group," and before he could ask, she added, "I'm no Jedi."

He visibly relaxed, and they continued talking, mostly inconsequential comments about the other patrons and life aboard the ship . Eventually, Serena jokingly pointed out that their conversation had been nothing but inane chatter, and his eyes turned distant. The sudden change took her completely by surprise, and she barely made out his response.

"Maybe we need small talk…" Drawing back for a moment, examining her eyes, he held out a hand. "I need to go, Serena, but it was nice meeting you. Can we get together again for more 'inane chatter,' maybe?"

Shaking the hand gently, she noted many calluses. He'd definitely seen some action with a blaster in his time. "I'm in Sector 5, 2812. Shouldn't be too hard to pick up the holo, right?"

He managed a half-smile before backing away into the crowd and disappearing. After waiting a moment, gathering her wits, Serena, too, made her way through the throng of cantina patrons and back into the wide corridors of the _Endar Spire_. _I must get some sleep. Maybe Bastila can help me again, use one of her mind tricks on me. I just need to get through a whole night without any nightmares_. Instead of heading straight for her bunk, she turned abruptly, navigating toward the Jedi sector.

_oOo0oOo_

**Sector 5, 2812; Kae/Ulgo Quarters**

"More wine?" He tipped the bottle in her direction, and Serena smiled, nodding at the blond man and holding out her cup. With a little effort and maneuvering on both their parts, the glass was eventually refilled, and Trask sat down across from her.

"So. Ready? I'll start" He moved his first piece, then folded his hands on the table in front of him and began their ritual. "I know you said you're from Deralia. Where did you go after that?"

"Moved a lot. Mostly, Rim. Nar Shaddaa, Tatooine." She advanced a piece from her own side of the dejarik board and grinned at Trask. "How is it you can drink like this, then go on-shift and _not_ get thrown in a cell?"

It was Trask's turn to smile. "These." He held his hand out to her. On closer inspection, she saw three tan capsules nestled in the palm of his hand. "Immediately neutralize the effects of alcohol in the bloodstream."

"Really? Can I have one?"

"Nope." He closed his palm, snatching it back with an uncanny speed to which Serena had grown accustomed.

_He shoulda been a kriffing Jedi!_

"Besides, it's not your turn to ask another question." He glanced down at the board and nudged a piece forward, removed one of her pieces, and took a long swig of wine. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched, seemingly trying to move every muscle in his body one at a time. It was a languid, graceful movement, like the large cats she'd once seen once in the zoological center on Alderaan.

Tapping her finger on the edge of the table, she complained, "Quit stalling! It makes me nervous. What are you going to ask?"

"Um…hm…" The mischievous glint in his eye was unmistakable.

"Trask!"

"Fine. Which of the boys are you pining over lately? Seen anything you like?"

"Wh-what?! I don't—I mean, there's a few who—but they're just nice to look at…I can't…Persquez." She thought the first hint of a blush must be rising on her cheeks. _Damn Trask._ "The dark-haired one from the armory…"

"Good one! He does have a sort of _flare_ to him, doesn't he?"

With a sigh, she moaned, "You mean, he's…?"

He raised his hands innocently. "'Fraid so."

"Have _you_—?"

"Unfortunately, he's not really my type, but like you said, nice to look at." He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Who else?"

"Well, there _is_…um…" She mumbled the rest under her breath, definitely aware that she was blushing.

"What was that? Speak up?" He was laughing at her, and Serena knew he'd never let it go if she didn't just say it.

"It's not like I have _that kind_ of interest in him or anything, but…what about the Commander? He's not bad, a bit quiet maybe, but—"

"No."

The flat reply threw her. Trask was a man who loved to talk and took every opportunity to do so. Such a short answer begged the question, "What's wrong with him? We've only spoken once, in the cantina, but I was hoping we might meet again." When Trask failed to respond immediately, she added, "I did get a good look at him, and he didn't _appear_ to have three heads…"

Trask chuckled, but his expression remained stern. "No, it's nothing like that. Just...stay away from his kind—"

"Kind?"

The blond's brows rose, wrinkling his forehead and tightening his features. Trask was serious. "You know, tragic past, dark mood. He's a good commander, but there's a lot of baggage weighing him down." He stood, slipping on his belt and threading a vibroblade into its holster. With a flourish, he gulped some more wine and popped a pill into his mouth.

"You just took it…with wine? The effects of which it's about to negate?"

"Invaluable stuff." He winked and headed toward the door. "We'll continue later. I'm on shift." With a wave, he disappeared into the corridor.

_Trask…_ She shook her head at the man even though he wasn't there to see.

With a stretch and a yawn, Serena pushed away from the table. Half-way to her bed, she stopped and slid the nearest window cover open. The pale blue streaks of hyperspace sped by, stars and planets completely unaware of the ship's passing. _We're nothing compared to this._ Serena felt a nostalgic tug in her chest. Her long confinement in the Jedi temple had done nothing to temper her craving to see more of the universe, to explore, learn, and understand.

"Hn." She wasn't really tired. Letting the shade slide back into place, Serena changed directions, and knelt by her footlocker, pulling out her pack and retrieving the book on ancient languages, picture codes, and deciphering techniques. She flopped onto the bed and stretched out on her stomach. "In an effort to quickly interpret the base pattern of a new dialect, it is vital to focus on the more common syllables. For example…"

_oOo0oOo_

Awakening to sirens and flashes of light was definitely not the ideal morning. When she realized the lights and sirens were partly in her head and corresponded to a throbbing pain in the back of her skull, Serena groaned and sat up.

Or, at least, she tried.

"Of all the fracking…" she muttered when the unfamiliar room began to spin and she slumped backward again. _Where am I?_

_oOo0oOo_

**Jedi Quarters, _Endar Spire_**

"Bastila, is everything okay?"

She wrung her hands in silence for long moments before finally answering with questions of her own. "Is _she_ okay? She hasn't exhibited any unusual behaviors?"

"No. I just finished testing her; if I didn't know better, I'd say she was exactly what she believes she is." He came to sit beside the padawan on the couch. "What's going on? Trouble?"

"Yes…no…" She sighed, snorting derisively at own indecision. "Perhaps. It seems Malak may have become aware of our presence. _My presence._ It is reasonable to believe she has gone undetected."

"If he sees her, he'll—"

"—recognize her immediately. Yes, I know. It could be disastrous." Her lips thinned as they pressed together in frustration. Trask was reminded of how young she was.

"Bastila, if Vrook trusted you to do the job, believe that you can do it. He may not be the most charismatic man, but he _is_ a good judge of ability. Besides, I didn't reach knight-status by sitting around in the temple; you're not alone in this." He smiled and stood, Bastila rising as well.

"I suppose you're correct." She bowed, worry still creasing her brow. "Thank you for coming by, Knight Ulgo."

"Certainly. Keep me informed. Between the two of us, we'll work something out." With his own abbreviated bow, Trask hurried out and made his way toward his post, taking on the barest burst of speed to ensure his usual timely arrival.

It was during his shift that all hell broke loose. With a sudden lurch, the _Endar Spire_ was pulled violently out of hyperspace and brought to a stop. Most of the crew found themselves tossed haphazardly to the floor, wondering what had happened. Then, the commander's voice broke over the bridge comm system. "This is Commander Onasi. What's going on?"

One of the officers near Trask found the comm on his damaged control panel and managed to get it working. "Looks like…interdictor field, sir. We're dead in the water."

A muttered, "Dammit," escaped the comm before Onasi started issuing orders, finally assuring them, "I'll be there in three."

When the link fell dead, the officer turned to Trask and the pair started the delicate task of reassembling the damaged navigational computers.

_oOo0oOo_

**Commander Carth Onasi's Private Apartments**

Carth didn't like being woken half-way through the night. He didn't particularly enjoy being nearly flung from his bed. And he sure as hell didn't like waking up to find a ship like the _Leviathan_ staring back at him from outside his window.

It was Saul's ship, the replacement for _Courageous_. It was the ship that killed Morgana. It was probably the ship that killed Dustil, as well, or took him away from Telos. It was definitely the ship responsible for everything wrong in his life at the moment. For his even being there at all, instead of at home with his family. And the man—his mentor, his hero, hell, his surrogate father—responsible for all of it was somewhere on that vessel.

He shoved his sluggish body into the refresher for a cold thirty-second shower to shake the last remnants of sleep and emotional shock, strategies and contingency plans already playing out in his head. Saul wouldn't let them get away. He'd board, take prisoners. The man had always seemed happiest with a brig full of enemies. True, at the time, they'd been Mandas and even Carth had rejoiced in their capture, but he didn't doubt that some things never changed. For instance, the glint in Saul's eye when he explained the necessity for yet another round of interrogations. Carth had always mistaken it for patriotism, pride in doing good work for the Republic, but in retrospect, he saw it for what it was: innate cruelty. With a disgusted growl, he headed out at a jog to toward the flight deck.

On the bridge, he discovered the full extent of the damage. The ship was held suspended immobile in the _Leviathan_'s tractor beam. _The Leviathan_ was the pinnacle of pre-war _Interdictor_-class capital ships. There was no way to get free. It also meant there was no way to fight back.

"Status?! Where the hell are we?"

"Taris, and we aren't going anywhere anytime soon, Commander. Damage reported all over. Some kind of targeted ion-sonic mix, we think—"

"Doesn't matter _how_. We need to—"

"Commander! Computer indicates intruders at multiple points. They're…they're boarding already!"

"I didn't think it'd end like this," Carth mumbled under his breath before turning to address the flight crew. "We can't do anything else here. I want this ship evac'd as fast as humanly possible. Got that?" The evacuation order filtered through the comm system immediately as members of the crew started dispersing. "You! Trask! You're the liaison to the Jedi, right?" The blond man nodded. "Get them—Shan—off the ship. They're priority, per Dodonna."

"Yes, sir!" Trask made a smart salute and jogged out the door as Carth turned to continue issuing orders.

When the bridge was clear, the commander ran his hands over one of the last undamaged computers. "Access administrative level systems."

The computer chimed back, "Identification?"

"Onasi, Carth. Commander. ID eleven-nineteen-o-three."

"Passcode?"

"Dustil five two."

"Identification confirmed." The screen faded black, then lit up with the administrative input menu.

He typed quickly, gritting his teeth and ignoring the guilt that threatened to overtake him. At least half of his crew would die when the _Spire_ self-destructed, but Admiral Dodonna's orders were explicit: protect the Jedi entourage at all cost and keep the ship out of Sith hands.

With a growl of frustration, he entered the last codes and the self-destruct sequence activated. _Saul's so close…_ Carth was sure he could _feel_ the man's presence just across the empty space that separated their battleships. And yet, now was not the time. The voice repeated her orders in his head and he knew what had to be done.

Carth turned his back on the viewport, Karath, and revenge, and made a run for the escape pods.

_oOo0oOo_

**_Endar Spire_, Jedi Quarters**

Trask was flying down the corridors at a speed that defied the imaginations of those he passed. Luckily, they were mostly too focused on their own efforts to escape to pay attention to a _fool_ who was _going in the wrong direction_.

He was worried. Bastila wasn't answering her personal communicator, but—as if on cue—he turned a corner and nearly barreled into the girl and her comrades.

"Trask, where is Serena?"

"You're top priority, Bastila, you know that."

"Go, find her. We will continue to the escape pods. Find Serena and get her off of this ship. She's—"

He was already running back the way he came. Over his shoulder, he called, "—invaluable. Yeah, I know!" Trask chuckled when he thought he heard Bastila's sigh even though he was already outside normal hearing range. She liked to complain that he insisted on having the last word.

With a knowing grin to mask his growing unease, Trask smacked the door opening mechanism and burst into the apartment he shared with Serena. She lay sprawled on the ground. A groan signaled she was both alive and conscious, two things for which he thanked the Force.

"Hey, sunshine, get up!"

She groaned again, rising up on her elbows and shooting him a perplexed look. "Wh-what?"

"Serena, let's go! Evac!"

He pulled her shakily to her feet only to find her eyes glazed and dilated, unfocused. Yanking her into position in front of him, Trask brought his face close to hers and stared directly into her eyes. He placed a hand on the back of her head and cringed at the large lump he found there. "Concussion?" he mumbled and applied what healing he knew, watching as her expression cleared just a bit. "Come on! Get dressed; let's get out of here!"

"Who _are_ you?"

The question threw him for a moment, and he stared at his friend in confusion. "Who am I? What kind of question is that?"

"I mean, who _are_ you? Wh…what's going on?" A second alarm joined the evacuation order, warning of the ship's imminent self-destruction.

"Dammit, Onasi…Look, I'll explain everything once we're off this ship and out of harm's way. Here—" He grabbed her gear from the footlocker at the end of her bed, spreading weapons, clothing, and books haphazardly across the disheveled sheets. "Take what you need. We're under attack and evacuating the ship. Do you know your name?"

"I'm…Serena…Serena…Kae…"

Trask allowed himself a brief moment of relief, reassured that the implanted background personality was at least still intact. "You've had a nasty bump on the head. You'll be okay, but we don't have time to wait. You're going to have to trust me."

She remained looking puzzled for a moment before nodding once and grabbing her vibroblade and uniform. With noticeable hesitation, she left the books and followed Trask through the door, dressing as she ran.

When they neared a blind corner, Trask signaled a stop. "Finish getting dressed and get that blade ready."

The sounds of gun battle floated down the hall, and with a nod from Serena, they entered the fray. The thrill of battle coursed through Trask's veins as he slashed and dodged his opponents' attacks, closing the gap and forcing them to switch to melee combat. He longed for the grace and finesse of his lightsaber, but made due, arcing his blade into the bodies of the Sith before him. A glance to the side found Serena doing the same, the very illustration of Master Kavar's legendary training, and Trask felt a surge of confidence bolster his defense as she was transformed in his mind. It wasn't just his friend beside him; he was suddenly moving in-sync with _the_ Serena Revan, even if _she _didn't know it.

When the last Sith fell and the sounds of battle faded, their ragged panting blended into the litany of alarms and sirens. Trask took Serena's arm to pull her toward the next corridor, but both jumped when a new, shrill sound echoed around them.

_ching-ching-ching_

Serena cringed. "What the hell is _that_?"

"Your comm. It's right here."He pressed a button on the side of the wrist device and a face appeared on Serena's communicator.

"This is Commander Onasi. There's only one pod left, and you're priority. I need to you to get to pod bay three now!"

Trask leaned over, yanking Serena's wrist up to his face. "Commander, this is Trask. I have her and we're nearly there. How long?"

"A little over ten minutes, and there are Sith forces in between."

"Don't worry, we'll be there."

"Right, Onasi out."

"Come on, Serena. Orders." Dragging her along, Trask moved them ever closer to their destination. However, much to his surprise and mounting confusion, they encountered little resistance.

At the end of yet another winding corridor, they were abruptly blown back by a ringing explosion. The hall filled with smoke and dust, and when it cleared, it was evident there had been a battle.

"What kind of weapon made _that_?" Serena was pointing to a long gash in the bulkhead. The melted metal was singed black and curled in on itself. It reminded her of the hole she'd seen in the stone in the Jedi Council chambers. _Strange…_

"Lightsaber. There must be Sith Force-users aboard. This…complicates things."

"Force-users? You mean, like Jedi?"

"How much of your memory'd you lose? Yeah, like Jedi…bad Jedi, I suppose. Either way, we only have about eight minutes left, and then it won't matter anymore!" Trask stooped beside the body of a fallen Sith and retrieved an odd looking lightsaber. _Just in case._

Again, they were running, storming through a longer hallway, up a service ladder, and past the cantina. They hurried through the bridge, and Serena nearly waylaid Trask as he came to a halt with a curse.

Before them stood a stout man dressed in black; his bald head shone under the corridor lighting, and he swung a red lightsaber lazily in hand, his posture reminding Trask of a predator lazily gauging its much weaker prey. _He's Sith; it's a fitting comparison._

"What do we have here? A Jedi and his bitch? Come here, girl—" The bald man waved his hand as he said the words, and Trask grabbed Serena's arm as she took a step forward.

"Serena, hey!" He pushed his own influence against her mind, holding her gaze. "Get out of here. You aren't far from Onasi. Take that hall, a right, and a left. I…it's been good. An honor, in its way. Don't worry about me." With a prayer to the Force that his efforts wouldn't be in vain, that she would make it to Onasi in time, Trask ignited his pillaged saber and stepped through the door.

_oOo0oOo_

Serena stood watching in shock as Trask advanced on the lone Sith. The doors slipped closed behind him. And then the world snapped back into place.

She surged forward, banging on the opening mechanism, calling for him to let her in, let her help. She didn't remember him, but surely they were friends. He was willing to die to protect her, but…_a Jedi? I don't know any Jedi, do I? Not as friends, anyway._

Trask's triumphant yell of "For the Republic!" filtered out into the corridor. It struck a note within Serena that couldn't be denied. With a resolute grunt, she stepped away from the door and the sounds of struggle beyond. If the man was willing to die, the least she could do was follow his directions and find Onasi. By his calculations, she was quickly running out of time.

_ching-ching-ching_

Serena jumped when the unfamiliar sound of the communicator broke through the hum and crackle of wiring and explosions from deep within the ship.

"Hey, where are you?"

"Almost there. It's…just me. I'm in—" She glanced at the numbers painted on the corridor wall. "—Sector 2, headed toward you."

There was a pause, and then, "I got you. Follow that hallway and take a right at the end. The door there is being guarded on the inside; I'll try to have it open when you get there. Get a move on!" The communicator went black, and Serena kept moving. When she turned cautiously around the last corner, her senses were assaulted by the smell of burnt hair and electronics.

"Let's go!" The man from her comm, Onasi, was standing amongst the wreckage. As she drew near, he yanked her arm and roughly shoved her forward into the last pod. "This is it. Move over!" And suddenly they were at much closer quarters: Serena pressed between his thighs, his arms around her waist. The pod closed and…

And they were surrounded by open space, falling through the vacuum, descending rapidly toward a looming gray planet.

Clenching her stomach and turning her head away from the sight, Serena asked, "Where are we?" The words were sticky in her mouth, and she wondered if every sentence she'd spoken since waking had been a question. What was going on?

"That's Taris." He leaned to the side as if to get a good look at her face. "You're the girl from the other night."

"I…what? I'm sorry, but I don't know you."

"I'm sure of it…" He rubbed his chin in thought, peering through narrowed eyes.

"I hit my head. I might know you. I mean, I think I knew that man—"

"Trask. His name was Trask. He was a good soldier."

"Soldier? He was a Jedi! I saw him use one of those laser swords…lightsabers."

"A Jedi? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Got their hands in everything it seems. You really don't remember?"

"No, sorry."

"You drink plain water."

"Obviously, you do remember _me_…"

He smiled, and for a moment both were able to ignore the vertigo in their bellies and heads, the dangerous landing fast approaching, and even the dire circumstances of the departure. Serena smiled back, on the verge of something, if only she could remember.

A final, silent explosion rocked the tiny pod, the shock wave propelled them even faster toward the growing planet below. Serena clung to Carth's arm, suddenly very much aware that there was only one harness and neither of them had thought to strap in. There was no time. As they entered the atmosphere, their velocity increased under the planet's native gravity, sucking them down to the surface. The mounting pressure closed in, and Serena sank into the icy embrace of unconsciousness before the tiny craft made impact. She dreamed of space battles and dead soldiers, a young girl, a baby…and a man. He beckoned to her, dark eyes shining in the wan light of her dreams.

The escape pod made contact with a wide pedestrian causeway on the surface of Taris, and Serena Kae dreamed no more.

**_oOo0oOo _**

A/N: Thanks for reading this far! :D A few one-shots follow this, and then chapter 22, all of which are mostly finished already. A post-KotOR II sequel is on the horizon, but I have other things to finish first.

**A note on Trask Ulgo: **He's a big faker. He's an obedient, **asexual Jedi **and a damn good actor. 


	26. Interlude 1: Innate

A/N: These interludes are background stories and in-game content leading up to the final chapter. They are part of the main story and have an effect on the characters! :D The styles may differ from the main chapters a bit. This is interlude 1 of 4.

**

* * *

**

**For the Republic: Interlude 1 of 4**

**Innate: ****_Trask Ulgo_**

**by vernajast**

As a child, my favorite past-time was pestering the masters for stories. The stories told by Dorak were best, but a close second was my own Master Zhar. Sometimes they were war stories, or the adventures of Nomi Sunrider, who rarely visited the temple anymore. The one I requested most was the story of the day he discovered me on Taris. He always admonished my pride, of course, but he never failed to repeat the story.

It is this pseudo-memory that flashes before my eyes when I hear the announcement.

The ship has been caught in an interdictor field above Taris.

Somehow, I felt this coming. After our meeting this morning, I suspect Bastila did, as well.

It's my home planet. I can't help my slight amusement, as it seems the Force does have a sense of humor.

* * *

_Sit down, Trask. _

_Now, when I visited the enclave on Taris, to meet with my old friend, a knight by the name of Jarn Castor, I never could have guessed I would be leaving with a padawan learner at my side. In fact, I highly doubted I would ever be graced with the opportunity to teach. In hindsight, finding you was the first of many such opportunities. _

_Upon my arrival at the enclave, I was greeted by a protocol droid in the customary way and shown to a small guest suite to freshen up. I was eager to see my friend and catch up after nearly a decade of separation, but decided upon a leisurely pace, so as not to rush my short time away from the enclave. Though, truly, there is no relaxing on Taris. That city is so filled with intolerant attitudes that it is always a difficulty for me to visit. Twi'leks are a barely tolerated species; a pity, really, as more cooperation between human and Twi'lek, as well as other races, could have improved living conditions for all. _

_When I reached the Jedi tower, Jarn and I enjoyed some light refreshment, small talk leading to lengthy reminiscence, and afterwards made our way toward a local restaurant. However, we never arrived. _

_The scent of smoke engulfed us as we walked and, turning a corner, we stumbled upon a scene of utter panic. Fire units were suppressing flames in one of Taris' giant towers, attempting to contain their spread throughout the megalopolis. Shaking off our shock, we moved amongst the injured, calming hysterical residents and generally trying to suppress a riot. Healing one young woman's burned arm, I caught a glimpse of something—a pale streak that raced past me toward the inferno. _

_A shift in the crowd warned me that something had happened just before I heard a man shout, "A boy! A boy ran into the building!" A few people surged forward intent on rescuing him, but the fire blazed higher as sections of the building collapsed. Backing away, the crowd was overtaken by a melancholy sort of pall. I kept watching the entrance of the building. Waiting. Just in case. I was sure you would come out, and then, there you were! _

_Thanking the Force, I rushed forward to retrieve you, only to find that you had a teenage boy and an elderly man in tow. You saved them, Trask...and then you passed out. Jarn confirmed that the people you saved were the last sentients within the building, and the fire units began quickly dismantling it and putting out the blaze. _

_I took care of you, myself, healing your burns and cleansing your lungs of soot and ash. And while you were hospitalized, I had time to think on what had happened. After much reflection, I recognized the spark of the Force in your actions, and Master Vandar agreed that I could bring you here for testing. _

_Of course, I had to wait for you to awaken, and we had to speak with your parents. I'm sorry to say…they didn't seem all that concerned._

_

* * *

_

Taris. It doesn't bear many good memories, and I have never missed it as the other padawans missed their home-worlds. My parents weren't exactly on the right side of the law, and they were inattentive at the best of times. Master Zhar's story, on the other hand, always reminded me that I had a job to do, someone to protect.

The interdiction field can only mean one ship: Karath and Malak's _Leviathan_.

_...someone to protect._

Bastila was priority-one. She was already moving toward the escape pods by the time I got to her, so, I raced back to my own dormitory only to find my bunk mate just awakening from a groggy sleep despite the sirens and alarms. She wiped at her eyes lazily, still not understanding the urgency of the situation. My own prodding to hurry because we were under attack was at first met with annoyance at the disturbance, and then incredulous questioning. It was obvious she had sustained another head injury, and as Master Vandar had warned, her memory was compromised.

There wasn't much else to do, so I fielded her questions as best I could and added on promises of more answers once the danger had passed, all the while pressing her to hurry.

Finally, she was armed and nearly dressed, so I grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her through the corridors of the _Endar Spire_. According to Commander Onasi, Bastila had already taken an escape pod, and Serena and I were the only non-Sith remaining on-board the ship.

Which brings us to this moment.

I knew when I saw the first pair of bodies, the corridor lined with melted metal and scorch marks, that it would come to this. Eventually, we were bound to run into one of the Sith Force-users; and, there he stands. Not any Sith underling, but Malak's apprentice, Darth Bandon.

I left Serena in the corridor. There's the sound of her fists pounding on the door. I hope she'll get going soon and make her way toward Commander Onasi and the escape pods.

Then it will be just him and me. Sith and Jedi. Empire and Republic.

Will it always be this way?

_snap-hiss _

"For the Republic!" I yell again, finding my center and my purpose.

_There is no death, there is only the Force._


	27. Interlude 2: Stained

**For the Republic: Interlude 2 of 4**

**Stained:**_**Zana Dex**_

**by vernajast**

These interludes are background stories and in-game content leading up to the final chapter. They fall between Parts 21 and 22 of For the Republic. They are part of the main story and have an effect on the characters! :D The styles may differ from the main chapters a bit. This is interlude 2 of 4. Zana is my favorite character to emerge from For the Republic. She's not exactly how I imagined her, but I think she and Revan play well against one another (Serena is less emotional, more "do what you have to do" and stoic; Zana is like pure emotion, but a bit weak, except where her friends are concerned. Both have been changed by events, haven't they? Zana will definitely change before returing from the Outer Rim...)

* * *

**Palahni, Inner Rim  
Age 5**

She wandered into tall grass golden with the last rays of the sun, weaving between thatched tangles. A small, secret smile played across cherubic lips as she topped the last hill to survey the fields below. The vineyard was laid out like a feast for the child with fingers and toes already stained black by the juice of so many squashed fruits.

The scrows marked her passage as always: with squawks and hisses, and low moans that resonated in her head and struck a painful chord. They were angry; she could feel it. They were always angry lately. She ran straight through the flock, small amidst the cloud of gray-black feathers and scales that took flight, blotting out the sun.

The tiny girl smiled up at them. Father always told her that a smile could fix anything.

A faint tug in her belly, pulling her toward home, meant Mother wanted her, now. She'd expected to have more time.

With a new urgency, she smuggled another handful of grapes from the thick, sinuous vines, shoving them into her mouth on the short trek back to the house, and then vigorously scrubbed her hands on her skirt. She sniffed, indignant, at the stains, aware that Mother would be more than displeased if she was dirty when she met their visitors. They were coming to see _her_ after all, and Mother had warned her that today she must conduct herself as one worthy of her station. _Can't be helped._

The white marble steps seemed impossibly steep, and she counted—_…23, 24, 25, 26…_—chewing her lip and wondering. When Celiana had come of age, the visitors had been two beautiful women. One human, one alien. Mother hadn't liked her staring and had sent her from the room, but she couldn't help it. They had both been so exotic compared to the ruddy complexions and dark features of the Palahnian citizenry.

She scowled, remembering that she later confessed to Mother that she wanted to be as beautiful when she was grown. Mother had laughed, merely saying it hardly mattered, as beauty would be of little consequence to her future. The words hurt, as if she was unworthy of something so frivolous.

Pondering the words as she walked, she was suddenly less eager to reach the sitting room. Beauty represented power, like Mother and Father held over the vast city outside the gates.

She paused to gaze out of one of the tall windows lining the corridor, brown eyes reflecting the black spires of the Palahnian capital rising in the distance. The girl shrugged at the faraway populace. _I don't want power, anyway._

With dragging feet, she continued down the long hall, stopping just outside a pair of ornate twin doors that reflected the late afternoon sun.

_tap-tap-tap _

The visitors were already inside when she entered, and as the girl took her customary seat beside her mother, she felt their eyes upon her back. There was tea and small talk. Mother's exclamation at the state of the child's hands and clothing, covered in grape juice and grass seeds and _who-knew-what-else_. There were apologies to the guests and pardoning smiles.

They continued watching her, gauging, appraising; speaking in circles, though the girl slowly came to realize what was going to happen. She couldn't say_ how _she knew, but she was sure that this wasn't anything like their visits with her siblings. Every fiber of her being screamed, _No!_

They wanted to take her away from Palahni. They wanted to put her onto a tiny, cramped ship. They said she would be happier with the other 'special children.'

The windows shook with her outraged protests, vocal _and _silent. What did these people know of her happiness? "Not going!" She turned her back on the others and stood silhouetted against the glass, watching the waves of wind in the tall, yellow grass.

Mother sighed and came to stand behind her. "Zana, please be kind. You _are_going with them."

There was nothing else to say. _Father ruled the city; Mother ruled the world._Her brother had told her, so it must be true. With an initial sob, brushing away a stray tear, the girl swallowed and grinned. Something behind her eyes cracked, refusing to let the smile shine there.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

In a last, childish gesture, she threw herself into Mother's waiting arms. "Miss you, Mama!"

* * *

**Dantooine Jedi Enclave  
Age 15**

It was the last time Zana saw her mother—the woman who bore her into the world and taught her all she could in those first five years. She only realized later that every lesson, every rule-of-thumb and platitude, had been preparing her. It was as if they had always known she would be chosen by the Jedi. Her family's contribution to the greater good, ensuring her siblings would be allowed to remain.

A tribute to the Republic.

A sacrifice for their happiness.

She _smiled _at the thought.

Even amongst the Jedi she was considered odd, so often found alone and wandering the grassy plains. At times, Serena joined her and they walked in companionable silence, words unnecessary.

But, not today.

She listened to the voices of the grass and the trees, the iriaz that kept their distance.

The wind picked up, and a nearby presence brushed against her awareness. Tren was out walking, as well. She smiled again, and this time it was bright and true, and not without genuine affection.

Perhaps she would meet him. Perhaps not.

"Perhaps Master Kavar will come out, instead."

The smile fell into a melancholy curve that stretched her lips thin as she imagined walking quietly beside her master, unable to reach out to him. So close it hurt.

Fingertips no longer stained black with juice danced across the frayed tops of the yellow grass of Dantooine.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._


	28. Interlude 3: Blind

**For the Republic: Interlude 3 of 4**

**Blind:**_**Carth and Serena's relationship**_

**by vernajast**

These interludes are background stories and in-game content leading up to the final chapter. They fall between Parts 21 and 22 of For the Republic. They are part of the main story and have an effect on the characters! :D The styles may differ from the main chapters a bit. This is interlude 3 of 4. This is the lull, getting from point A to point B in search of the elusive Star Maps. For this story, the order of their trip is as follows: Taris-Dantooine-Kashyyyk-Tatooine-Korriban-Leviathan-Tatooine-Manaan-Rakata Prime-Star Forge.

* * *

_**Endar Spire**_**, Republic capital ship**

"Trask, you gone yet?"

"No, I'm just on my way out." He wandered into the room wearing one boot and carrying the other. "You look gorgeous! When I get off my shift, should I knock before entering?"

She watched him struggle into his boot and frowned slightly. "You know I don't bring men here." After a pause, she added, "You might try to steal them, after all."

He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she forced a laugh and then a smile, poking him in the arm. "I'll be back before your shift ends, Trask. If not, come looking." It was his rule, established not long after her arrival. On a ship full of hormonal young men and women, Trask had insisted on _protecting her_. Disregarding, of course, the fact that she could certainly protect herself.

"Fair enough. Have a good time." The door slid closed behind him with a slow _whoosh_.

As she watched her reflection wearing the black sleeveless _nothing_ Trask had called "gorgeous," Serena smiled a genuine smile. _It has been forever, and it's not like Trask is of any use in that department, either._ He might not be her type, but in her current mood, Serena certainly _wished_he preferred women.

Sighing and making a final check in the mirror, she brushed a hand through her wavy, black hair and decided, "Enough preening. Time to go." Serena crossed her fingers against meeting Bastila while striding down the long corridor to the cantina. When it came to leisure, in particular, Bastila could be too Jedi for her own good.

It was smoky in the cantina. The din of second- and third-shifters rumbled at a dull roar, and everyone was drunk. _Falling on their asses drunk_, she sighed. Sidling up to the bar, she ordered water. Drunk wasn't her goal; it never was.

She was sipping on her drink when she caught him watching her from two seats down. He was some Republic big-shot, no doubt. _A good-looking Republic big-shot. Still, another guy who isn't my type._ Honestly, Serena had yet to find "her type" and, contrary to what Trask thought, she never went with any of the men she met in the cantina. They just weren't the one she was looking for. The hole in her heart, in her memories, well..._they're just never the right one. _The Jedi said her memories would return in time, but this one was persistent in staying lost.

Republic-big-shot scooted down two seats, sliding his own drink closer. "Hello, there."

She gave him a warm, yet decidedly uninviting smile. "Hi."

"Could I ask, is that water you're drinking? _Plain water?_"

"Plain water."

He grinned at her. "Would you believe you're the only other person in here who isn't drunk? I don't know why I come down here, really."

"I was just starting to wonder the same thing. I'm Serena, by the way, Serena Kae."

"Carth Onasi. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You mean—" She pulled his flight jacket toward her, examining his badges. "—_Commander _Carth Onasi. That puts you in charge around here, doesn't it?" She couldn't tell, but she thought he might have blushed in the dim light. He certainly didn't say anything, so she kept talking. "I'm with Bastila's group," and before he could ask, she added, "I'm no Jedi."

He visibly relaxed, and they continued talking, mostly inconsequential comments about the other patrons and life aboard the ship. Eventually, Serena jokingly pointed out that their conversation had been nothing but inane chatter, and his eyes turned distant. The sudden change took her completely by surprise, and she barely made out his response.

"Maybe we need small talk..." Drawing back for a moment, examining her eyes, he held out a hand. "I need to go, Serena, but it was nice meeting you. Can we get together again for more 'inane chatter,' maybe?"

Shaking the hand gently, she noted many calluses. He'd definitely seen some action with a blaster in his time. "I'm in Sector 5, 2812. Shouldn't be too hard to pick up the holo, right?"

He managed a half-smile before backing away into the crowd and disappearing. After waiting a moment, gathering her wits, Serena, too, made her way through the throng of cantina patrons and back into the wide corridors of the _Endar Spire_.

* * *

**Taris**

Carth paced the small, dingy apartment for the third day in a row. Another gray Taris dawn filtered through boarded up windows: another day since the destruction of the _Endar Spire_, since they crash landed on this dump of a planet, since Serena was knocked unconscious. He was beginning to get a little stir crazy and very hungry. Their meager rations were gone, but Carth wasn't ready to leave her alone just yet.

Grabbing a scarred plastic chair, he pulled it over to the bedside and sat down. He checked her pulse and felt her forehead for fever, changed the dressings on her wound—a nasty gash to the head—and methodically washed her face with a mostly clean cloth. Then he waited, watching her breathe. He gently brushed away some stray hairs from her eyes, smoothing them back into dark locks.

They were practically strangers, yet he'd waited for her on the _Endar Spire?_ Not just because she and Ulgo were the last people on board, but because it was her. And that night in the bar, he hadn't been _attracted _to her, exactly, but he'd been drawn to her and found an instant camaraderie. She was just another member of the crew, albeit part of the Jedi entourage, but he felt connected to her, somehow.

_This is ridiculous. I never leave anyone behind, period. It's just my policy. Never have, never will. And I'll be sure to tell her that when she wakes…if she wakes up. _

Carth knew he was lying to himself. There was one person he'd left behind: a young ensign, on _Courageous_, as it died above Malachor V. The boy had saved his life, and Carth had retreated to a shuttle. There was no way he had escaped in time. Bowing his head, Carth sighed into the quiet stillness of the room. Usually, he avoided those thoughts; it was just one more failure to weigh down his conscience. Along with Dustil and Morgana. Along with Telos and Karath.

He continued stroking her hair, watching her, absently migrating his hand to her cheek. When he felt soft, warm skin against his own, he yanked it away as if burned. A mental image of Morgana glowered at him. He glanced down at Serena before rubbing both hands over his face and wandering over to the window. _What the hell am I doing? Everything was simple, until-_

A loud cough startled him. Carth jumped, spinning around, hand on his blaster. "Hey, you're awake! Let me get you some water, just a minute." He opened a canister of purified water, trickling some down her throat. "Better?" She nodded, but looked ill from the movement.

Haltingly, she asked in a raspy voice, "Wh…Who are you?"

* * *

**In transit, Dantooine to Kashyyyk**

"...I think we're nearing—" She paused in the doorway of the cockpit, listening to the pilot snore softly. "—Kashyyyk?"

As she turned to leave, she heard, "No, Serena...a trap...mnhmmn...trap...mhmm..." He rolled over on his side in the reclined pilot's chair, brows furrowed, and she couldn't help but sense his fear and frustration.

Serena stood nearby, just watching, wondering what he was dreaming. When he started thrashing about, she tentatively rubbed the back of his hand, quietly humming a song she remembered from when she was small, a time before the blank in her memories, and it seemed to help. He calmed and fell back into a peaceful sleep.

Then, carefully so as not to disturb him, she climbed out of the chair to check the navicomputer. Still four more hours. It was plenty of time to let him sleep for a while. He was the only pilot, which cut into his personal time. Sleep, for instance, got sacrificed.

_Like anyone on this crew gets personal time! _She snorted, holding in a sarcastic laugh, and heard him stir.

Sliding to sit in the co-pilot's chair beside him, she continued watching, knowing there were things to do before they landed, but unable to just abandon him. He kept mumbling indecipherable syllables, obviously in distress.

A few locks of hair had fallen in front of his eyes. They were the ones he was always fidgeting with. She reached down to brush them out of the way-

"Serena! There you are! We're nearing Kashyyyk, so we should probably get started with the preparations!"

Carth and Serena simultaneously jumped. He sat up groggily, glancing from Serena, who was still poised to reach out to him, and Bastila, who looked cold and angry despite her cheery tone.

Serena stood up silently, glared at Bastila, and stalked from the room. _That's just not like her, at all. Why would she?_

Bastila followed, pretending not to hear the echoes of Serena's thoughts, and Carth was left alone in the cockpit, half-asleep and completely confused.

* * *

**Tatooine**

Amidst the raucous market surrounding the port at Anchorhead, a voice had called Carth's name. The man had only spoken for a minute, but it was long enough. Carth retreated up the boarding ramp and into the Ebon Hawk, alone.

As Serena looked around at the dumbfounded crew, everyone seemed to be watching her, as if they expected her to do something. _Flyboy..._Rolling her eyes, she followed him into the ship.

"Hey! Uh, Carth?" The awkwardness of calling out to him was preferable to the awkwardness of stumbling upon him doing something private; crying, for instance. _Not that he is. It's just, the thought of losing a child…and, now he knows where he is. A Sith! It must be overwhelming to suddenly find such bittersweet hope._

He was in the male dormitory, sitting on the floor with his back leaned against one of the lower bunks, staring blankly at a bulkhead. "Carth?" His only reaction, a blink, was followed by more silence. After a few moments of hesitation, she gave up trying to speak and just sat down next to him on the floor.

A few more uncomfortably silent minutes passed.

"Carth-"

"You know, I thought...I thought he was dead, Serena. I thought my son was dead. I searched for him-I did! For two years, I wandered the galaxy, searching. I was just starting to accept it..."

"You don't sound too happy-" They winced simultaneously; that wasn't exactly what she meant.

"Should I be happy? I mean, yeah, I'm happy he's alive! But, he's a Sith. My son is everything I'm not. He is the enemy of everything I stand for...I failed him. I failed Morgana." He closed his eyes, lowering his head, chin touching his chest. "I should have been there!" he growled, suddenly slamming his fist on the durasteel floor. "Dammit!"

"Hey! Hey, look, I..." Not knowing what to do, Serena reached over and squeezed the large hand lying next to her. He didn't react, so she just let her hand rest on his, hoping it offered him some kind of comfort.

When he spoke again, his voice seemed to be a bit more under control, though it was husky, obviously holding back even more raw emotion. "Serena, I need to ask you something." He looked up, catching her gaze. "I know the mission is important, but, afterward, if-"

"Carth, don't say another word." His downtrodden look was almost too much to bear so she quickly continued, "Korriban will be our next stop! In fact, let's see if Bastila's mother is here on Tatooine, and then we'll go and look for your son. We can always come back; one star map is as good as another..."

She smiled and waited for him to close his mouth. His jaw was hanging slightly open in shock.

"You…would interrupt...Serena..." He grabbed the small hand that had been resting on his, squeezing it between both of his own large ones. "I don't know if you realize how much that means to me. I may not be happy with him, but he is my son and, well…he's all I have left."

Serena wasn't sure why she felt a sinking feeling—_Disappointment?_—at those words, and she didn't have time to think about it. Footsteps in the hallway reached their ears only seconds before Jolee burst into the room. Carth released Serena's hand, and both retreated to lean against opposite ends of the bunk.

The elderly man appeared about to say something, but, instead, he chuckled, turned around, and walked back out the way he came. Serena looked at Carth for a moment before standing and holding out a hand to help him up off the floor. "C'mon. Let's go do this so we can move on to Korriban. We need to find...?"

"Dustil. His name's Dustil."

She expected him to release her hand after she pulled him up, but he didn't. She felt him squeeze it again, rubbing his thumb against the back as they walked slowly through the ship. He didn't let go until they reached the boarding ramp, just before they burst into the harsh light of Tatooine.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._ There was no need getting infatuated with Carth when she had only just finished her Jedi training. Besides, he was still in love with his wife; he could never return her feelings. _The feelings I do not have_, she reminded herself.

* * *

**Departure from Korriban**

As the Ebon Hawk took off, heading away from Korriban and making the jump to lightspeed, Carth Onasi was the personification of happiness. Not only did they find Dustil, but Serena had found enough proof to convince him that the Sith were indeed the enemy. He'd even promised to meet Carth on Citadel Station when all was said and done. It was enough to make any man believe in the Force.

"Hey, Carth?" Serena strode into the cockpit, hair wet and pinned up in a crooked bun, obviously just out of the refresher. "How long until we reach Tatooine?"

He glanced at the navigational panel. "Three days, maybe another half, why?"

Her chagrined smile was the last thing he expected to see. "Because, I just want to relax. I feel like we've been shooting through hyperspace for years, not months. Everyone's tired, and now there's no real rush to get to Tatooine. Bastila's mother is already on Coruscant. Can't we just, you know, _take it slow?_"

It was Carth's turn to look embarrassed as his mind read into her words, tugging at thoughts that had forced their way into his mind more and more often lately. "Serena, can you sit down?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Everything okay?"

"Everything is great! You really pulled through for me back at the academy. I mean, I know there was a star map there, too, but…thank you. You've returned my son to me, and I don't think there's anything I can ever do to repay that."

"Well, your happiness is a start." She hugged him tight around the neck, and then sat back in her chair, breaking into a content smile and meeting his gaze. He barely hesitated before nervously reaching out, trailing his fingertips across her cheek. She leaned gently into his hand, and he found himself pulling her closer. In her eyes he saw a glimmer of something he couldn't quite recognize, but he did know the excitement he was feeling. For once, he gave in and, leaning toward her, breathing in her scent, their lips barely apart—

"Serena!"

"Oh kriffing Force, Bastila! What the hell is it this time?!"

"What's wrong? Am I interrupting something?" Bastila appeared thoroughly dejected.

Carth flopped back into his chair, and Serena sighed. "No, Bastila, what is it you need?"

"I could really use a sparring partner. Would you mind very much? We can practice in the cargo hold now, and again on the way to the Star Forge." She frowned at Serena. "I have a feeling we are going to need it."

Serena glanced at Carth, then at Bastila. "Fine. You lead." As she followed Bastila out of the cockpit, she turned to give Carth one final, longing look, pleasantly surprised when he returned it wholeheartedly.

* * *

**In transit, Korriban to Tatooine**

Carth coughed again as Canderous' cigarra smoke tinted his vision a hazy gray. "Whatsa matter, Republic? Can't handle it? I woulda figured any soldier would take time out for the occasional vice. Life's too short to worry about growing old." The grizzled Mandalorian offered Carth a cigarra of his own, which he politely declined. Having been dealt out of the pazaak match only moments ago, he was finally free to leave the table.

Serena had disappeared hours before and had yet to return.

After the blinding glare of the main hold, the ship's corridors might as well have been black holes, and it took his eyes a minute to adjust as he tripped into the cargo area. Unfortunately, that was one minute more than Serena needed. Before the soldier had any idea what had happened, she had him pinned to the ground, sitting on his stomach with a blaster trained on his skull and a saber raised above her head.

"What the hell are you doing sneaking around the ship in the dark?! You knew I was here, that I get really keyed up when I'm practicing! I—" She stopped when she could no longer hear herself over Carth's laughter. "What is _wrong _with you!?"

"You're cute when you're angry, Beautiful."

"I have a _blaster_ pointed at your _head!_ And I thought we cleared that up ages ago: _stop _calling me—!"

"—Beautiful. I know, I'm sorry." A beat of awkward silence was quickly followed by Serena's hasty departure from Carth's stomach, slapping on the lights, both blushing as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "It's just that…" His voice trailed to a whisper, and then silence.

They stood in the cargo bay for what seemed like forever. He hadn't let go of her hand. _Why hasn't he let go of my hand?_

Why don't _**you**__ let go of __**his**__?_

It was a good question, and Serena's heart jumped a bit as she thought of the answer.

Stepping closer, Carth's free hand cupped her cheek, a calloused thumb grazing the bridge of her nose. Serena watched as he closed his eyes, realized what he meant to do, and—against her better judgment, against her Jedi training—she closed her own and leaned up to meet him.

His lips barely touched hers, hovering, hesitant and uncertain. The weight of their pasts hung thick between them.

"Where's Bastila?"

"Forget Bastila. I figured out how to block the connection."

Casting aside his doubts, Carth kissed her again, pulling her close against his body. She could feel his heat and sense his longing, but the kiss remained gentle and measured. It was Serena who could no longer maintain control, and she slipped a hand around the back of his head and pulled his mouth down onto hers.

Something ignited in Carth. Lifting her off the floor, shoving her back to the wall, he buried his face in her neck, taking in the scent of Serena's skin, the feel of it against his lips as they slid over her ear and temple. His mouth found hers again as his hips jerked.

It all seemed very familiar and something ugly flashed across her memory _(…a dark temple ruin on Dantooine; they were the first to enter in 10,000 years…) _and she heaved him across the room.

"No…not…here…like this," she gasped between breaths. Then, afraid to give Carth a moment to reconsider, she grabbed his jacket and led him to her bunk, flicked a hand at the lock, and pushed him down onto the bed. Their lovemaking was slow and deliberate, each moment a thing to be savored and remembered. They were nearing the Star Forge and Malak; there was only one star map remaining. Neither wanted to face death without first having embraced life again.

Afterward, they lay together in the dark. Rasping breath filled their ears, and neither could find enough air to speak, until Carth mumbled into her cheek, "Serena…I…I think I love you." A secret uttered in the calm that followed passion and urgency, after the need became warm satisfaction in the depths of her being. Serena felt a wave of recognition travel her spine, tingling and alive.

"I…Carth…"

She could feel his body weight shift before he sat up, halfway, to peer down at her through the glow of dim ambient lighting, simulated starlight. "You don't have to, Serena. It's okay…I didn't expect…I don't…" he mumbled, looking away.

"Carth." Her fingers grazed his stubbled cheek. "I feel...the same...I..." She broke into a smile, unable to give voice to the things she desperately wanted him to understand.

But his languid grin reflected hers, and he settled back down into the bunk, curling his body around her protectively. Possessively. "I'm glad."

* * *

**In transit, Tatooine to Manaan**

Jolee Bindo glanced up as Bastila entered the hold with her caffa. "Jolee, we're nearly to Manaan. I thought you'd like to know. The final star map is within our grasp." She sighed and sat down across from him. She'd probably been sparring with Serena again, as she looked exhausted. "That is, assuming we don't run into any trouble along the way."

"So?"

"So?" She tapped her foot and looked at him with an odd, crinkled-up expression-the one Serena liked to say looked like a kath hound pup.

"So…do you think they'll ever figure it out?"

After a moment of thought, an enlightened expression crossed her face. "Oh, you mean-No, I should hope not. The consequences of such a pairing could be...more complicated than expected. You, of all people should understand, what with your own experiences in love." Her hands, waving animatedly as she spoke, upset her caffa, jolting it, though the cup stayed upright. She scurried out of the room to retrieve a cloth, and Jolee just shook his head in amazement at the padawan.

He questioned her as she wiped at the mess. "What did you mean by 'complicated?' I think they could be happy; don't you?" Cutting off her sniping reply, he continued, "I guess you mean that, since she's a Jedi, and was once the Dark Lord Revan, blah-blah-blah, you're afraid-"

Her eyes opened wide and a hand clamped over Jolee's mouth before he could say more. "Shh! Jolee! How did you know?"

"Mmm. Hrm mrmhm-" Bastila pulled her hand back, allowing him to speak. "I said, I may be old, my dear, but I'm not blind."

Just then, there was a powerful jolt, followed by Carth's voice blaring over the ship's comm system. "It looks like we've got company." Bastila hurried over to the nearest viewport just in time to catch the first glimpses of an Interdictor-class ship looming ahead of them.

_Its interdiction field must have pulled us out of hyperspace. Sweet Force…!_

"Bastila, Serena, Jolee-I need you in the cockpit. Now. I _know _that ship."


	29. Interlude 4: Still

**For the Republic: Interlude 4 of 4**

**Still:**_**Carth and Serena, the truth of Revan**_

**by vernajast**

These interludes are background stories and in-game content leading up to the final chapter. They are part of the main story and have an effect on the characters! :D The styles may differ from the main chapters a bit. This is interlude 4 of 4.

* * *

**A planet in the Unknown Regions of space. Closing in on the Star Forge.**

Carth wandered through the corridors of the _Ebon Hawk_, searching for further signs of damage. _Stabilizers need replacing. Viewports look okay, need a pressure test. Electrical's shot in the control panel, get T3 on it. _He calmly avoided entering the female dormitory, engrossed in studying the floor as he walked by the entrance. Carth knew it was empty, but he just couldn't bring his thoughts back around to...

* * *

_"You have one chance, boy. That woman of yours is carrying two well kept secrets. I'll tell you one, and then I want you to think long and hard about giving me the information I seek."_

_"She's not my-"_

_"Stop denying it. It won't protect her. Or your child, for that matter. I've never used these devices on a pregnant woman before, much less a pregnant Jedi. I'm disappointed to say she's screamed as prettily as any other whore." Karath's cold smile burned into Carth as he tried to make his torture-rent mind understand._

_"Ch-child...?"_

_"You really didn't know? Oh! Apparently, she is just as surprised. Excellent! This really does sweeten the telling of the other secret. I assume she isn't aware of that either. But I will save that pleasure for Lord Malak, himself. He will find it most amusing."_

_"No! Saul, please! Serena, is it true?!"_

_"Carth, I-"_

_"Is it true?" She closed her eyes, fingers lightly brushing along her torso. A sudden, astonished breath answered his question, and he glared at Karath. "Saul, ask me again! I'll...I'll tell you whatever you wanna know. Just...just don't hurt her anymore." With downcast eyes, he added, "Please."_

_And Karath laughed-a deep guffaw that started in his chest and worked its way out past leering lips and teeth. A sour and sharp sound tinged with madness._

_"Oh, Carth, you really are so naive. Perhaps later, when Lord Malak arrives, you would like to repeat your offer? I'm sure he would be most accommodating, considering the circumstances." He laughed again, flipping two switches on the wall, leaving Carth's cell turned off._

_Serena's screams filled Carth's ears. He was drowning in the sound, in her pain, manifested as palpable burning through his own limbs. "Saul! You bastard! She hasn't done anything. Neither has Bastila! Why are you-"_

_"Of course, she's innocent. Believe it while you can, Carth. It's a nice fantasy. How it must feel to watch a second woman and child suffer for your mistakes."_

_Carth stood helpless in his own cage, watching Saul's back disappear down one of the long hallways._

Hold on, Serena.

* * *

Carth shook his head to clear the memory. Serena was in the temple at that very moment. _Fighting Force-knows-what kind of Sith and fallen Jedi, droids, turrets, traps... _He forced his mind to still. To stop. Following her example, he sat down on the floor of the main hold and closed his eyes.

* * *

_"And now-" Carth lowered his blaster, aligning it with his mentor's temple. "Now, I'm going to make sure you can't hurt anyone else!"_

_"No! Carth, stop! Please...Carth..." Serena's voice broke through his rage like a beacon. It called him back from the edge. "Carth, he's dying; let him go. No good can come of burdening yourself with his death." Her calming words continued as Carth lowered his blaster, staring down at the old man's blood-spattered face._

_"She's right. You aren't worth it." Dropping to one knee, Carth lowered his mouth to Karath's ear. "But, Saul, I have one question before I leave you to die: what happened to you? You loved the Republic. You fought alongside me and taught me everything I know. What changed?" Carth was wasting precious minutes of escape time, but he needed to know and understand, to reconcile the man before him with his memories._

_Karath's mouth drew into a twist that might have been a smile. "I told you before, boy: I chose the winning side. You'll see..." The admiral coughed, splattered more blood across his lips and chin. "Now, I've always wanted to know...is Revan as...good in bed as...Lord...Malak al-always claimed?"_

_A cackling, hacking laugh drew more blood from Karath's lungs as Carth's vision dimmed. The implications solidified, and he swayed on his knees. "Wh-what are you..."_

_"Yes...y-yes, Carth...whatever you are thinking...right now...yes..." A final gasp wrenched itself from Karath's body as it began to shut down._

_"Carth, please! Let's go! We need to get moving!"_

_"I must agree, Carth, it is time!"_

_Saul's words tore ragged, red streaks through Carth's mind as he struggled to stay upright. "Revan..."_

_A hand grabbed at his elbow, roughly hauling him up off the bridge floor and dragging him toward the exit. "Carth, what's wrong? What did he-Hey!"_

_Jerking out of Serena's grasp, he muttered, "C'mon," and started down the corridor, ignoring the stricken look on her face._

* * *

He imagined Serena sitting across from him, knee-to-knee, features relaxed-a rare sight lately. _No thanks to me. _In the aftermath, Malak and Karath's revelations had left their marks on them both. _I'm sorry. _

* * *

_Darth Malak stepped out of an adjoining corridor, blocking their way. Mission screamed and jumped back. Bastila gasped, but held her ground. And Serena...Serena stared. Carth watched her face slip from fear to confusion in seconds, Karath's words ringing heavy in his ears._

_"You know me, do you not?"_

_"You-you're Malak," she spat, "Of course we know who you are!"_

_The Sith Lord's eyes narrowed slightly. "Always so hostile. I remember a time, long ago, when you would have longed to see me. What have they done to you, Revan?"_

_Serena's hands began to shake, and she quickly balled them into fists. Her shoulders followed, and her chest, quaking as she lost control. There was a choking sound, and Carth wanted to reach out to her, hold her, tell her it wasn't true and it was okay and..._

_It wasn't. Until that moment, until Malak uttered that most hated name and Serena's eyes lit up in recognition, Carth hadn't believed it. Not really. Now, there was no avoiding the truth. Serena was Revan. Revan was carrying his-_

_No!_

_She shuddered again, falling to her knees, and Carth acted on instinct, putting a hand on her shoulder, prepared to help her to her feet._

_"Get away from me!"_

_"Serena-"_

_"Get the hell away from me! All of you!"_

_Carth didn't move, and Serena seemed to ignore him._

_"I am glad you see reason, Revan."_

_"Shut up, Malak! Shut up, and let them go!" She was no longer visibly shaking, but Carth could detect the pain in her voice._

_"You are in no position to be making demands." Malak's lightsaber burst to life. "Now..." He took a step forward. "Revan..."_

_"NO!" Bastila was between them, two sabers clashing loudly. "Back away, Malak."_

_Malak growled deep in his chest, eying the young Jedi. When he didn't move, Bastila pressed her attack, slashing and twisting, but remaining between Malak and his prey. "Go, Carth! Get her to the Ebon Hawk!"_

_"But, Bastila-"_

_"Now!"_

Following orders. I can do that. _He fell back on old Serena up off of the floor, he hoisted her over his shoulder and forcibly carried her away from the battle, ignoring her screams for him to go back for Bastila. He tightened his grip and kept moving when she tried to kick her way free._

_They tailed Mission all the way to the Ebon Hawk. Carth yelled at Canderous to get the ship airborne, and then dropped Serena...no, Revan...onto her bunk. "Stay there." Slamming the door, he activated the outer locks and deactivated the inner opening and locking mechanisms, effectively trapping the Sith Lord inside. He marched down the corridor, stamping his anger into every step, yelling, "Who knew about this!? I want answers, now!"_

* * *

He considered reaching out to Bastila, trying to help bring her back, but Serena had cautioned him against it. In fact, she'd convinced him to do no such thing before she would depart.

_"Carth, it's not that I think you are weak-quite the opposite-but you're untrained, and I wouldn't dare risk losing you when we've just found each other again. For me...for the baby, let me deal with Bastila and the Force. You focus on getting us out of here, okay?" _

He'd agreed, of course.

* * *

_Carth sighed deeply and stretched, slumping against the wall of the garage. He watched Serena practicing kata, admiring her graceful movements, the long line of her back, hip, and thigh._

_"What are you thinking, Carth? Besides that?"_

_"I was thinking...wondering...How did you know? That I was 'Force sensitive?'"_

_"You mean aside from your nice smile and good looks?"_

_"I'm serious," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and brushing back the stray bits that tended to tickle his brow. Serena stopped her exercises and leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor beside him._

_"At first, I didn't. I was still remembering how to hear the Force, myself, for what I thought was the first time. I had glimpses, suspicions later, but I was convinced when...on the _Leviathan_..."_

_"Oh."_

_Serena crossed her arms, propping them on drawn up knees, dropping her chin to rest on her wrists. "When Malak said...what he said...your anger cut through me in a way a normal person could never have managed." She smiled sadly over her arms, watching the lines around Carth's warm, brown eyes tighten. "Of course, I had plenty of time to think about it while I was locked in the dorm, and I came to see the larger pattern. Your son, Dustil, for instance, is very talented. Even Bastila pointed it out when we were on Korriban. Plus, your reflexes are on par with some of the Jedi pilots I've...met..."_

_She dropped her eyes when his closed. She knew he didn't like to acknowledge the past, Revan's past, but she was remembering more every day. And they were her memories. _A part of me...

_A hand on her cheek, intercepting a lone tear, drew her gaze up into Carth's. "Look, it's okay. We can't keep avoiding this. I want to know. You're still Serena, right?"_

_"I've always been Serena...Serena Revan..."_

_"Then, I want to know. Start at the beginning: where are you from, how did you join the Jedi, everything." His hand cupped her cheek and he brushed a soft, chaste kiss across her lips. "I love you, no matter what's in your past. It's your future I'm more concerned about."_

_"Then, why do you-"_

_"Because I need to understand where you go when you stare off into hyperspace like that." He grinned, and while it was obviously forced, there was still kindness in it. "So start talkin', Beautiful. I'm all ears."_

_"It won't be pretty."_

_"But it'll be real. And I won't have to hear it from Saul or Malak. If I hear it from you, all of it, I think I can bear it." To himself, he added part of the Code she had taught him: _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

_She watched his eyes for a beat, searched his feelings, and nodded. With a steadying breath, she began: "I was born on an agricultural planet near Deralia, to parents whom I was told were good, honest people. They were killed when I was small, and that's where Loren found me..."_

* * *

In the end, he'd even promised not to touch Serena through the Force, through the bond he'd stolen from Bastila, but he had to know. And Serena would forgive him one moment of weakness.

Clearing his head, again stilling his thoughts, Carth took a breath, held it, and searched for his center. Branching out, he opened his mind to Serena. She was a bright light in the otherwise dismal temple. Shining against the blackness. His conscious mind brushed against hers just long enough for her love to reach him before he disengaged. _They're okay. _For a moment, he remained on the floor, just happy to know it.

* * *

_"You awake?"_

_"Yes, unfortunately."_

_Carth sat up on his elbows to look down into Serena's face, his half-cocked grin visible in the dim panel lighting. "Unfortunately?"_

_"Carth. Why am I awake?"_

_"Maybe because I was touching your stomach, again?" he asked innocently._

_"Again?" She raised a brow, expression moving between exasperation and amusement. "That's all you do anymore, you know? You're incorrigible."_

_"I can't help it, Beautiful." He ran his hand across her still-flat stomach, fingers twitching slightly against the warmth of the bare skin beneath her shirt. "Have you thought of a name, yet?"_

_"Me?" she muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "I haven't had much a chance to."_

_"Carth's a nice name." He dodged, chuckling as she sent a mock punch toward his shoulder. "Okay, okay. Well, I've always been fond of Travin. It was the name Morgana and I had picked out...in case..." He ducked his head in apology. "Uh, sorry. I shouldn't have-"_

_"No, it's alright. Actually, I think it's a perfect name." She smiled over at him before pulling his head down to the crook of her shoulder. They lay in silence for a long while, simply comfortable in one another's arms. They knew the peaceful respite would end soon; they were closing in on the Star Forge._

_When Serena realized Carth was no more tired than she was, she turned to look into his face, so very near her own. "If neither of us is going to get any sleep-" Carth cut off her words with a kiss. Grinning, chuckling gently against her lips, he knew, this time, he was definitely reading her mind._

* * *

Finally standing, he paused, listening to...nothing. The ship was silent. Still. He grinned and said to no one in particular, "Better fix that."

In no time, he planned to have the engines running and the life support systems humming, the stabilizers replaced, and the Hawk ready for Serena's command.

And Carth would be ready, too. He never questioned how the woman he loved had once commanded vast armies to march across the galaxy. He understood. For her, he would.


	30. Part 22 (final)

**For the Republic: Part 22 (Final)**

_**Terminal Glow**_

**by vernajast**

"I know you have to go in there alone. I just wanna make sure you have something to look forward to when you come out." Carth's barely contained emotion crackled in the small space between them. He pulled her closer to his chest; her ear found his heartbeat out of habit. His voice rumbled against her cheek when he whispered, "I don't want to lose you."

_Again. _Serena heard the unspoken word hanging there in the silence, a silence immediately broken by another explosion somewhere below. "Bastila is doing her job. It's time I did mine."

She looked up and forced a smile when his hand found her abdomen, rubbing against her robes in acknowledgment of the growing life within. "I'll be here when you're done. For you both. I-I love you, Serena."

"I know." She examined his face, taking in all of his features, even his worry lines, and memorizing the look on his face. His expression reflected only a mixture of pride and love and reminded her that this, with Carth—this was real and nothing Malak could do would change it. "The Force is with you, Carth. Just promise me, no matter what you sense or feel, you won't come in."

"Yes, ma'am." He kissed her again—a chaste peck on the forehead, a talisman—then turned her around and pushed her gently toward the door. "Go get him, beautiful."

She carefully crafted a Force shield around the child, and then, with deliberate slowness, applied a tendril of her power to the door mechanism. It opened easily, but as soon as she passed through, the heavy stone door slammed shut behind her. The noise of it echoed in the chamber like the gong in the enclave, and as the Jedi masters had taught, she let the reverberation slide through her core, using it to center herself firmly in the Light.

Only when she was ready did she step out of the chamber entrance. But she paused abruptly, her expectations keenly at odds with the image before her.

He was crouched at the center of the chamber, head bowed, shoulders hunched. From his posture, she thought he might be meditating. A vocabulator clicked to life, filling the room with a deep, growling voice: "Greetings, Revan."

"Malak."

He stopped meditating and looked up at her. Their eyes met, and the very universe suddenly seemed to standstill. Her mind was flood with a rush of memories she could hardly believe were her own.

She had known they had been friends. She had known they went to war together, fell to the dark side together, but…_No._ It was impossible to accept the remainder of those memories, and she stood dumbfounded, staring into those unbearable amber Sith eyes. The enclave, the temple, the wedding, the war, the baby, Zana…_oh, no_…the betrayals, the fall.

Serena staggered and dropped to her knees beside Malak as the past rolled over her in waves. The last of her missing memories locked away by the Council were fully assimilated in a flurry of mental agony.

She willed her mouth to work. "We. You and I. We…we are married?" It was the one ridiculous question she managed to force past uncooperative lips.

"_That_ is what you want to ask?" He might have been smiling, though it was only apparent at the corners of his eyes. "Mmm. In a manner of speaking. You will be relieved to remember that it was not official. For the_purposes_of your Republic pilot, no, we are not married."

She unconsciously touched her stomach, thoughts of another child coming to mind. _Travin._ No, now she knew she had been wrong all those years ago. The boy in her visions, Travin, was alive and growing inside of her, Carth's son. She felt a phantom pang for her first child, Malak's child, whose life she had unknowingly delivered to the darkness of Malachor V. How could she have forgotten? "His _purposes_?"

"Yes, I know exactly what he has planned for you. A little house on Telos, a garden, a fence with a gate, and Revan, his pretty little housewife. All the while, he goes off to play space pilot, war hero, with the rest of the fleet. Just like his first wife, you will be relegated to that backwater colony and forced to _wait_for him. It is not a fate even I would have wished on you."

Serena felt a spark of anger driving quickly to the surface, but pushed it away. Malak was only trying to bait her. Still, she didn't sense any malice from him, no trick. Could it be true? Could Carth really think that she would agree to such a life?

Malak was calmly waiting.

Still crouched on the floor, mere feet from the Sith Lord, Serena crawled the remaining distance to where he was sitting on his knees and brought herself up to his eye-level. They were ugly yellow slits, nothing like the eyes her new memories supplied. His skin was pale and veined, drained of color. "I…" Tentatively, she touched his temple and ran her fingers down to his cheek, a remembered gesture.

His skin was cool. He didn't react at all, just continued to look at her. "You do not have to say anything. It is unfortunate that it has come to this, but did we not know there would be sacrifices? And we have failed."

"I'm so sorry, I really am. If I had known…" Dissonant memories warred for their rightful place inside her head. She touched his cheek with the back of her hand and left it there despite discomfort. "I dragged you down this path. You loved me, and I used that to twist you and—"

"No! It was not your fault; I chose to follow willingly." His eyes fluttered closed and then open. "I wanted power."

"You're a terrible liar."

They sat in silence. The shared past flowed between them. Malak took Serena's hand and held it briefly before dropping it back onto her lap.

"Perhaps." Their eyes met again, and he abruptly stood and strode across the room. Talking as he walked, gesticulating with his hands, he explained, "That is what these tanks are, Revan. Power. You underestimated the uses of this place. The Star Forge can make us immortal." Reaching toward the nearest tank, he was suddenly surrounded by white, crackling lightning that emanated from the body within. He absorbed it immediately, shuddering as the light faded, and the body in the tank withered. The sound of it echoed in Serena's ears, in her soul. "They are all Jedi from the enclave. And we could use their energy to rule the galaxy, forever…protect it, together…if you wish."

Serena closed her eyes, memories of their time at the enclave racing behind her eyelids. Making love in the tall grass of the plains. The rush of passion and love she'd once had for this man. The love they had shared. Time spent talking in their tent during the war. His fierce protection. The sorrow he felt at the loss of their child. So many emotional imprints to represent the way she loved him.

She wanted to go to him, now, hold him, tell him she was sorry and things could go back to the way they were.

But Serena knew better. And so did he.

_"Whatever's happened up until this point, there's going to come a time very soon where you're going to have to make a choice. And there won't be any turning back. I want you to make the right choice. I want to give you a reason to. You gave me a future, Serena. I want to give you one, too…with me."_Carth's words repeated in her mind—had it really only been that morning?—transcending the memories of her past and tightening her resolve.

She pictured Carth, Travin, and Dustil. "No, I've been down this road before. There is nothing there for me."

"Then, it is time, Revan. We finish this, now." He started toward her, eyes narrowed, saber igniting midway through its first arcing slash. She had just enough time to scramble up off the stone floor, activate her own saber, and block him.

Thus, it began.

Parrying, lunging, blocking, jumping, dodging. She pushed a wave of power toward him, knocking him back, but before he was off the ground, he was already sending a shock of lighting into her body. It shook her to the bone, teeth rattling in her head. Pain streaked down trembling limb, and there was a scream she hardly realized was her own.

Without pause, Malak flew at Serena, and their lightsabers met again, hissing as they connected. He smashed a shoulder into her chest and brought his blade around to meet her torso. Though she deflected the blow, he managed to leave a deep gash in her off arm. Blood leaked down to Serena's hand and fingers, dripping thick drops to the stone floor, leaving behind slick red-black pools.

When he turned away and reached toward another tank, she seized the moment to apply the barest healing touch. It was just enough to staunch the blood flow before activating her energy shield. Her eyes cast about the room, searching, calculating her chances of surviving this encounter. _Those tanks. I'll never stop him without destroying them._

He launched another attack, jumping, nearly flying. The shock as their lightsabers met sent her smashing into a wall, slamming the back of her head into the cold stone.

"You've…you…you've improved," she murmured, trying to make all three Malak's before her converge into one as he came barreling toward her. Serena spared another small amount of energy to cleanse the haze from her mind and brought her lightsaber up to block his attack. She parried, and then tried to swing it around from above. Malak approached low from the side, shifted, caught her saber's tip and pressed his attack, backing her up against the wall once more. Taking advantage as he prepared the finishing blow, she ducked and whirled around him, an Echani maneuver from a previous life. His larger frame made him slower to turn, and as he did, she used the Force to entrap him in a stasis field.

The purple glow surrounded Malak; his eyes stormed with his fury and Serena's burned as cloying hatred tingled in the air. Shaking her head to clear it, she ran toward the tanks, yelling over her shoulder, "We don't have to do this! You can come back to the Light. I did, and I had fallen so far." She called electricity to her fingertips and sent it flying, overloading the circuitry of the tanks, destroying their mechanisms and dispersing the energy within without absorbing it. As mercifully as possible, she returned the trapped Jedi to the Force.

"I've come to understand that the light is more powerful than the darkness. The dark side of the Force…it is only the absence of light. It is the emptiness. It's cold…lonely…" Something deeper than pity welled up inside her; sharp agony at the hurt she had caused him, at what she alone had pushed him to become.

He was watching her from stasis. She could feel his anger solidifying into something physical, volatile. Backing away when the field spluttered and died, again on guard, she was startled by the sudden realization of a simple truth she had known all along: she could not kill this pale man before her.

Again, their sabers met over and over, clashing and shrieking as he pushed her until she finally missed a step and went down on her back. Malak stood over Serena, his yellow eyes leering, lightsaber poised to deliver the final blow.

It was only the two of them now. They had always been moving toward this end, and she needed him to know. "I'm sorry, Galen."

* * *

Those words…they hurt. He staggered back as from a physical blow, air rushing into gasping lungs. She hadn't called him 'Galen' since the war; no one had. It stunned him, triggered memories that he, himself, had intentionally forgotten.

_What—? What have I done?_

* * *

Jumping to her feet, Serena lunged forward and buried her lightsaber in the side of her friend, her lover, pulling back in shock when she realized what she had done. _Galen!_The lightsaber sizzled and spluttered as she wildly withdrew it. The chamber filled with the acrid, sickening scent of charred flesh.

She threw the weapon to the floor and dropped to his side, rolling him to his back with the aid of the Force, stroking his head. She ripped a length of fabric from her robes and pressed the fabric tight against his wound. "Galen! Galen, speak to me, look at me!"

Languidly, his head lolled toward her voice. "Serena?" Shaking pale hands grasped hers, applying more pressure, but mostly seeking contact.

She bent toward him, foreheads touching as both tried to breathe. _Just breathe._

"Galen," she whispered into the space of their shared inhalations. "Let me…I can heal it…I can…"

"No. Leave it…" His voice thick with pain and acceptance. "Just…just let me…let it end…" Shallow respiration stuttered as he fought to maintain consciousness. Serena heard a sickening wetness as he inhaled and she cringed, but didn't move. Couldn't. She couldn't leave him like this. He continued, slower, "I…I'm sorry, too…I did not mean…for it to…only wanted…help…you…"

"I know." Five years' worth of tears burned behind her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. There would be time enough for tears.

"I…" He stopped for breath. "You turned…to the light…something I doubt…I could…" His eyes closed and he muttered, "so…the darkness takes…me…"

"No!" Serena pushed his impotent hands away, cupping the wound. She opened her link to the Force and allowed it to flow directly into Malak. With a jolt of recognition, she felt another presence join her, boosting her power. _Carth._

"I won't let you die, Galen. I won't _let_ you. You saved me more than once; it's my turn," she ground out through gritted teeth. She closed her eyes and focused on healing his body _and_his mind. And slowly, so slowly she feared her strength combined with Carth's still wouldn't be enough, she felt his connection to the world of life solidify. He grabbed at it with the clawing fingers of a drowning man, desperate to return to the surface.

"Ser…rena?"

"Galen?"

Sitting up gingerly, favoring his still wounded side, he just looked at her, his disfigured face unable to show the gratitude she could sense. When she reached out for his hand, he snatched it away.

Serena studied his face for a heartbeat, and then stood, staggering back from his hunched form. "I have something to say. For me. And then I'm going, Galen. The Star Forge will be destroyed soon, and I have more than one person I care about to get off of this thing before it does." She exhaled deeply and looked into his eerie, amber eyes. "I can't just stop loving you, but we weren't meant to be, in any sense. **WE** became the darkness we sought to prevent. **WE** were the dark cloud. But now it can end. There doesn't have to be darkness, Galen. There can be light. You can always come back. It won't be easy. I don't know what they'll do…but…it's better than this. Better than a meaningless death. Please..." She bit her tongue, desperate to hide the way her hand trembled as she held it out to him.

He hesitated.

An explosion deep below rocked the Star Forge. The lights flickered and danced above.

Serena fought the urge to run, to escape; she had abandoned him too many times. "It won't be easy, but I'll be there to help you. Let's go. Together."

Bowing his head in defeat, Darth Malak took Revan's hand. Galen reached out and grasped Serena's.

"Together, then. What good may come of it."

_~the end~_


End file.
